Destined for Darkness
by DeliriumSkeins
Summary: A few small mistakes by Alisa Surana and Morrigan have unforeseen consequences. The future is dark and clouded and the reason is something none of them saw coming. When one threat is averted, another is inadvertently created.
1. Where Paths Diverge

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game. _

_Author's Note: Well, this idea has been buzzing around in my head for several days and it demands to be written. First of all, the set off point for this story is inspired by Nightwish11606's work. So a huge thanks and shoutout to Nightwish! _

_Just a couple of things to say about this chapter. It isn't going to be like the other chapters I write and is more just a set up for the story. All events discussed here will probably be looked back upon in greater detail later on. For timeline purposes it is set during the blight, before Orzammar and after everything else. I have no idea if this is going to work (I have a strange feeling it won't) but I can't ignore this forever. Regardless, I hope you enjoy it._

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Chapter 1 – Where Paths Diverge

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Darkness. That is all that surrounds this place. The shadows and the voices that whisper from within.

"We have waited long. You said salvation was coming." A voice which altered its pitch rapidly. From high and almost screechy to a deep low bass.

"It is. Do not worry. That which we desire shall soon descend." A crystal clear voice that is best compared to a calm river.

"You have said that for long." A voice so unimaginably beautiful that its celeste tones would have brought tears to your eyes.

"She is correct, what we desire is coming." This voice may not be described. It is both too majestic and too terrible.

"When?" A deep and agitated voice.

"It begins now, calm yourself." The clear voice replied.

"You should not be so patronizing." A voice best compared to glass grating on ice. Cold and sharp.

"My knowledge far supersedes that of all here except one." The clear voice now perhaps slightly annoyed. "Just have a little more patience."

"We accept and we shall wait. But soon, all shall feel our rage." A voice that is best compared to heat and blazing fury.

"Rage is not a part of what we do. We do as we feel is right."

The clear voice speaks once more, a little on edge perhaps. "Your voice unnerves even us, you know."

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Denerim was pleasant at this time of year. The usual crowds milled around the market place, stopping at merchants to purchase or sell wares. Shouts of bartering, the occasional drunk argument in a bar all added to the character of the great city. The recent political upheavals hadn't had as much of an effect on the exterior as one might have expected. The alienage was closed off of course but no reasonable people ever went there. Alisa Surana was apparently not reasonable but her endless protests found a brick wall of refusal from the guard at the gate. Eventually she marched away fuming, her ragtag band following her.

They made a most unusual sight. An elven mage, an apostate witch, a templar, a chantry sister who was a trained spy, a qunari warrior, an elf assassin and an old circle mage. They drew stares but they were used to that by this time. This was Denerim though and no one paid mind to awkward things if they could help it. Why stare at armed strangers when you could have a more enjoyable time at the pearl. That organization, needless to say, did brilliant business at nearly all times. Everyone should have been enjoying themselves.

Everyone except a certain witch who didn't socialize particularly well. She glanced around sourly at the silly people running helter skelter like headless chickens. She sighed and looked at her own group. She thought the templar an idiot, the elf assassin a sex crazed maniac, the old circle mage to be a preachy, submissive coward. She didn't care about the qunari much and he didn't seem to care much for her. The warden was one person for whom she had respect and whom she considered a… friend. As much as that concept was alien to her, she felt she had found it. She caught herself looking at Alisa in a certain way and quickly shook that away. But what if Alisa felt that way too? She told herself it was impossible and dragged her mind.

And then there was a certain annoying chantry sister who she had the utmost disdain for at one time. That perhaps changed to cold indifference when she discovered that the innocent Chantry sister was a not so innocent spy. She would grudgingly admit that her respect for the bard had grown a bit after that. And curse Leliana to damnation for thinking that made them friends or something. She grumbled indistinctly as the Orlesian flashed some jewelry at her. Well, it was somewhat pretty and with Alisa they rarely got time to relax.

But the warden had finally given them some time to get themselves back together. She probably took that decision when they looked dead on their feet. Denerim was the perfect place to restock and take a short break as long as they kept away from Loghain's watchful eye.

Why was the bard even trying to drag her into this? They had argued for hours yesterday about their somewhat… differing views about religion. They had eventually been pulled apart. Morrigan had spoken to the warden after that for a time, Alisa being the only person whom she could hold long comfortable conversation with.

"Why must you pester me so?" The witch eventually snapped lightly at the bard who continued to smile. That was much to Morrigan's annoyance.

"I just want to apologize for yesterday's… disagreement. I took it too far." She said gently holding up a silver brooch.

The witch stared blankly at Leliana and then shook her head, finally accepting the little gift.

"I apologize as well." She muttered as she turned away. She could practically feel the bard grinning triumphantly.

"That's a pretty brooch Morrigan." Alisa said smiling; apparently she had cooled off after her disagreement with the guard. "Where'd you get it?"

"Leliana got it for me." The witch mumbled.

Alisa quirked an eyebrow in surprise.

"When did you two become friends?" She asked in confusion.

"We didn't." Morrigan said firmly. "She just did it to apologize for yesterday."

Alisa nodded and then fell into stride with the witch, speaking comfortably. Often Morrigan found herself lost in the warden's green eyes. Maybe it was that conversation on that day that made the witch decide she wanted Alisa as a lover. Maybe it was just the culmination of events over a long journey. But, for better or worse, it was to be a fateful moment.

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Back at camp, the witch stared from her tent at the few figures who mulled around the dying campfire. Sten, the qunari, kept watch. Alisa sat on a log by the campfire as Morrigan could see Leliana kneading the warden's shoulders. She looked away as jealousy pierced her heart. She knew it for a fact. Leliana wanted Alisa too. And she wouldn't let the bard take the elf away.

The witch had never wanted something this badly. The rare few times she had been possessed by a desire this strong had been either for objects or power. Like the mirror Flemeth had taken away from her and smashed upon the ground. No, she would have Alisa one way or another.

This decision can perhaps be added into a series of fateful moments. Perhaps it was merely a series of choices although some would have claimed it was destiny. But since some things cannot be changed and because the past is the past, these two views are often, for all practicality, the same. What can be but does not become is sometimes the strongest driving force for present actions. The fact that two futures could be but only one is does not take away the convenience of saying it was destined. In some matters, free will and fate are one and the same. Do you understand?

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The next several days were relatively calm as they journeyed towards the Frostback Mountains and the dwarven kingdom of Orzammar. The cold was setting in and it was starting to get to them all. Morrigan had gone out of her way to speak to Alisa over the past few days, to try and flirt with her but always she was unable to spill her feelings. Leliana tried speaking with her often but what had become cold indifference had once again become utter disdain.

The witch would not lie; she felt threatened by the bard who was also spending a great deal of time with Alisa. She grew more and more worried as the warden often spoke to her about the bard. She began to feel as though she was but a friend to the warden but Leliana was the one the warden wanted. She would have to remedy that, one way or another.

That was when she finally came to the decision of using the hallucinogenic poison she had been preparing. Mix it with an aphrodisiac and then… what? By now she could tell that Alisa was incredibly attached to the bard and she would have to show the warden that Leliana wanted someone else. She never intended for things to go in the direction that they went but often our judgment of the future is clouded.

And so it came to be that Morrigan slipped her little mixture into Leliana's food one night. The combination was perfect and the effect was lethally efficient. As the witch would have guessed, the bard did spend the night Zevran who needed no aphrodisiacs. He would be sorry later, for he hadn't known that Leliana was not acting of her own volition.

Morrigan made sure Alisa heard, she made sure Alisa knew. The bard clambered out of the tent shocked and she shouted at Zevran as they attempted to put together what had happened. This, Morrigan made sure the warden didn't hear. Leliana needed some time to herself and she left to think in the forest. Alisa followed her, the young elf mage's mind boiling over with emotion. The witch watched from the shadow of the trees.

"Had fun with Zevran?" Alisa said coldly, startling the distracted bard. Perhaps she did not mean to be so cold, perhaps she couldn't help it. Maybe, if she knew where things were going, she would have acted differently. But often our judgment of the future is clouded.

"Alisa, wh-" The bard tried to reply.

"I don't want to hear it." The warden said bitterly. 'Why did you even act interested if all you wanted was a night of pleasure?" She was screaming now. It was most unlike her actually. Perhaps it was merely emotion. Or perhaps it was fate that things should go this way.

"Please-" Leliana appealed but the warden merely shook her head.

"I don't want to hear it. Just… don't speak to me." Alisa said bitterly as she stalked back to camp, perhaps holding back a few tears. The bard may have followed but the witch stepped out to face her.

"You did a horrible thing to her." Morrigan spat violently. Perhaps this confrontation was not a good idea in hindsight. But we cannot change the past.

"Don't you see Morrigan… something was wrong, I wasn't myself! I didn't know what was happening!" The bard cried out.

"Shut up you whore!" The witch shouted. "She's better off without you anyway. She needs someone who actually cares for her."

Leliana was sobbing now and what Morrigan felt at this moment is a tale for later.

"B-but I don't… I thought you were a friend… what…" The bard mumbled indistinctly as the witch followed the warden back to camp. Leliana sobbed quietly against a tree until she finally guessed what might have happened.

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And so it came to pass that Leliana left the camp and the warden's group later that night. She heard the sounds of Morrigan and Alisa talking but she shut them out. She left the camp sobbing and heartbroken. Why did she leave though? That is a question this tale has yet to answer.

And this is where the future that may have been, no longer was. But when one door is closed, several open. Some brighter, some darker. What could have been is no longer important. All that matters now is what happened after that.

So far this story has perhaps been interesting at best and perhaps highly rushed. But you see, our time is not forever. And what comes after this matters much more. This is where the tale becomes exceptional.


	2. The Faithful

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

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Chapter 2 – The Faithful

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Tiberius hurried through the little door, accidentally slamming it. He flushed for a moment as he quickly addressed Adrian, who looked up from his desk.

"Did Brother Robert and Sister Bridget leave?" He gushed.

The room was a small study where papers and records were stored. No daylight leaked into the room and it was perpetually lit by the soft glow of a candle on the desk. Brother Adrian sat at the desk, slouched over the document before him. Most of the remaining space in the room was occupied by shelves and chests. Papers, manuscripts and books littered the area despite everyone's best efforts to keep them orderly.

"Of course they left." Brother Adrian replied, somewhat surprised. "Is there a problem?"

"No, no. I just wanted to be sure before I informed father Roysten. You know how he hates being misinformed."

Adrian nodded in understanding and ran his hands through his short hair. He got up and dusted off his old chantry robes. His pale skin looked almost ghostly. He spent far too much time locked up in the record room. Tiberius himself was tanned from much time spent outdoors in the daylight, he kept his head shaved completely and kept his robes as neat as possible. He followed Adrian up the stairs.

"Have you heard? Rumor has it Brother Lucas has taken to drinking." Tiberius muttered.

Adrian shot him a sour look as they emerged from the basement. He blinked several times to let his eyes adjust to the bright light flooding in from the windows lining the hall. It looked like any chantry building that you might expect. Stained glass windows, several benches and an altar with the statue of Andraste. The difference here was that it was empty. Always.

"You should hope Father Roysten doesn't find out." Adrian murmured. "There will be consequences to sinning."

There was one other difference about this particular chantry. And that would be the throne at the foot of Andraste's statue. This is where Father Roysten sat for most of the day. He was an old man now, with wrinkled peach colored skin and flowing white hair and moderately long beard. He wore a pure white robe in sharp contrast with the duller color of the chantry robes. He had a staff laid across knees made from pure silverite. A single large diamond decorated the tip. Despite his fragile and bent physique, everything about the man radiated confidence and power.

Adrian and Tiberius prostrated themselves before the throne. At Father Roysten's rasped command they rose respectfully.

"Brother Robert and Sister Bridget have left as you instructed Father." Tiberius reported. "Father, pardon my disrespect but are you sure they will find her? We have been spying on them, yes but the likelihood is…"

"I understand your concern son, and I am not offended by your inquiry."Roysten replied firmly. "You must have faith. Things will work in our favor. The time has finally come when the Maker shall bless the righteous and damn the sinners. The faithful have long awaited this glorious time."

The passion in Father Roysten's words was tangible. Tiberius nodded hypnotically. It was well known among the chantry devotees here that Roysten could probably see the future. It certainly felt that way, he hadn't been wrong about a thing yet.

"Father… does… do things really have to end?" Adrian squeaked nervously.

"Your fear is only to be expected. You are among the Maker's most loyal children. Be happy, soon you shall be in paradise."

"Is there anything more you require us to do Father?" Tiberius asked.

"Make preparations for our guest. I doubt she will stay with us for more than a few nights but those must be pleasant for her." He instructed and then paused. "Also, take me to Brother Lucas. I wish to speak with him."

Adrian and Tiberius shared a worried glance before leading the way.

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Robert had been marching through the forest doggedly, ignoring his body's protests. The light of dawn was filtering through the trees, lighting the area in an enchanting manner. But neither he nor Bridget were in a position to appreciate the beauty. They had been travelling nonstop since yesterday and they were exhausted. And yet they would not stop until they found what Father Roysten wanted them to find.

He was a young man, with a lightish color of skin and short blond hair. He wore typical chantry robes although he was far better built than any chantry priest you would expect to see. He found his hand hovering by his sword hilt. One couldn't be too careful; there was a blight after all.

Sister Bridget was brown skinned and somewhat stocky but the muscles clearly showed. Two daggers were belted firmly to her chantry robes as she scanned the area.

"Do you hear that?" She hissed.

"It sounds almost like… sobbing?" Said Robert, somewhat surprised.

Bridget smiled for the first time since yesterday. "Looks like we found we were looking for."

They advanced cautiously towards the sound of the occasional sob and the few cracking branches. They came upon a young, pretty red haired woman. She wore chantry robes that were torn and she lugged a pack with her. She noticed them and looked up in surprise. She had been crying recently, her face showed it clearly. Robert nodded subtly as Bridget stepped forward.

"Sister." She cried. "Are you alright?"

"It's nothing." Leliana said.

"But you look dead on your feet." Bridget said, clutching Leliana at the shoulders. "Let us help you. There's a chantry nearby."

After a while Leliana simply nodded and followed them in silence. The journey only took a few hours when you weren't scrounging the forests to find someone. It was a small structure, nestled among a few hills with no village particularly close.

"An unusual place to build a chantry." Leliana mused as they got closer.

"It is true, we are a small family." Said Robert as he smiled. "But none of the Maker's houses should fall to decay."

Leliana simply nodded as they ushered her in and guided her towards a room. Robert checked back with Bridget after reporting to Father Roysten.

"She's fast asleep." Bridget said simply.

"Very well." Robert said nodding. "Sister Elaine has cooked. Feed Leliana once she wakes and then she can meet Father Roysten. Take your time though. I expect him to be busy for a while now."

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Tiberius and Adrian held an uneasy watch in Brother Lucas' room. He had been asleep the last time Father Roysten had visited although now he was awake. And downing several bottles of alcohol. He would not listen to them. Lucas was middle aged and had hair cropped extremely short. He was thin but what characterized him most at that point were his lifeless eyes. They were the eyes of a man who had lost faith.

Adrian arose with Tiberius as they heard footsteps and the clanking of a staff. They bowed respectfully as Father Roysten entered the room. He waved them aside with a hand gesture and looked pitifully at Brother Lucas.

"My son, what has befallen you?" He said softly.

"I don't care anymore." Lucas replied, surprisingly sober. He took another swig from the bottle. "Your plan is crazy, your visions are crazy and you're crazy too."

Adrian bit his lip, wishing he could silence Brother Lucas.

"My son, have faith." He instructed, his voice still bearing the same softness. "My visions have come to pass, she has arrived. Glory awaits those loyal to the Maker."

"Damn the Maker and damn you, you psychotic madman!" Brother Lucas screamed. "Do you have any idea what you intend to do?"

"Sacrilege." Father Roysten said softly. "You may mock me but to mock the Maker is a heavy sin. I am sorry for what I must do Lucas. This house is only for the faithful."

The diamond at the dip of the staff turned red hot as Father Roysten approached, his eyes glinting hypnotically. Brother Lucas rose and stared blankly into those eyes. The staff reached towards his heart.

Brother Tiberius looked away and attempted to shut out the horrifying sound of sizzling flesh. A few moments later it was over and Father Roysten left, as though nothing unusual had happened at all. Adrian looked despondently at the sight before him. He swallowed to overcome his queasiness.

"Let's take out the garbage." He muttered to Tiberius as he stepped forward.

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_Author's Note: Well, I hope you liked things so far. We'll be kicking things off a little more soon. I am managing this story along with another one that I'm writing. At this point, that one will probably take update priority so updates here may be a little slow. Feedback and criticism is welcomed. Hopefully I'll be able to update soon._


	3. Among the Maker's Chosen

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Managed to get this update out a bit faster than expected. I hope you enjoy it._

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Chapter 3 – Among the Maker's Chosen

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"How did you do that?" The cold and sharp voice echoes from nowhere. Perhaps it is somewhat accusing.

"Do what?" The clear voice replies.

"Whisper beyond." The deep voice says.

"I have done it before and you are aware of that. I merely did it again."

"Very well, keep your secrets. But do you honestly expect us to believe that the girl will be our aid?" The pitch changing voice inquires.

"Why would you doubt her?" The clear voice asks.

"She is but an ordinary mortal. She isn't even a mage." The furious voice barks.

"And why should that matter?" The voice that makes even the darkness shudder.

"You intend something dangerous. I hope it works." The sharp voice speaks.

"There are safeguards." The clear voice speaks confidently. "It will work."

"As long as it isn't like the last time." The dark voice mutters. "What horrors we are forced to suffer. He is completely gone, isn't he?"

A pause.

"Yes, he is now." The clear voice says. "But not for long."

"Time is short." The furious voice says simply.

"And our aid comes swiftly. I have seen it." The clear voice replies.

They shudder as the terrible voice speaks once more.

"As have I."

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Sister Bridget stood outside their guest's door leaning against the wall. Her eyelids fluttered. Even the hard wooden wall behind her would have made a comfortable bed at this stage. She sighed and shook her head to keep awake. Desire to sleep or not, she did not wish to disappoint Father Roysten. No mistakes, as usual. She heard shuffling inside the room and quickly pulled herself together. She smiled as she opened the door and stepped inside.

It was a room that provided for bare necessities only, one could not expect much more in a humble chantry. There was a small wooden bed in one corner with an old mattress laid atop it. Other than that, the room provided a small wooden cupboard and a simple dresser.

Sister Bridget could see Leliana sitting at the edge of the bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She had been distracted when she was brought in and was probably making an effort to put things into perspective for herself. Father Roysten had given them some idea about what plagued the beautiful young woman but she was not to know that. Harsh love stories always wounded Bridget and she felt genuine sympathy for the girl.

"Did you sleep well?" She asked, as she approached the cot.

"Yes, thank you for your kindness." Leliana replied, her eyes downcast.

"Surely you would like something to eat, my dear." Bridget said as warmly as she could.

"If it isn't too much trouble..." The bard muttered.

"Of course not dear!" Bridget exclaimed. "We expected you to be hungry. This house is for all the Maker's children. There are fresh chantry robes in the cupboard. When you are ready, I will await you in the main hall."

With that she bustled out of the room to organize a meal. Twilight had fallen and faint streams of light filtered through the stained glass windows of the hall. The candles had been lit, casting an ethereally beautiful glow across the simple wooden benches and Andraste's statue. Sister Bridget bowed respectfully in front of the statue before continuing on. She noted that Father Roysten was not in his usual place. That was fine though, she would introduce Leliana later.

She laid out the vegetable stew that Sister Elaine had prepared and sat down, finally relaxed. The girl was definitely hurting about something. She could see that clearly. The dull fury and sadness in those blue eyes was easy to notice. Still, whoever had hurt her would get theirs eventually. That was how things were supposed to go from here. At least, that's what Father Roysten had said.

She had waited perhaps ten minutes when Leliana walked slowly through the open door on one side of the hall. She cast her eyes around and Bridget was pleased to see the appreciation etched on her face. At her gesture, Leliana came and sat opposite her and began to eat the stew rather quickly. Bridget smiled before addressing her.

"I'm afraid I do not know your name. I am Sister Bridget."

"I am Leliana." She replied softly.

"Pleased to meet you Sister Leliana. You are a chantry sister, no?"

"I used to be, not so long ago." Her voice trailed off after that. Sister Bridget was careful not to push too far.

"Did you like the food?" She changed the subject.

"Yes, it is cooked very well." Leliana said in a brighter tone. That tone and mood rapidly grew despondent again. "It is much better than..."

"I suppose you do not wish to speak of what has happened to you?"

"Not at the moment. And I have taken advantage of your hospitality for too long. I sincerely thank you but now I must-"

Sister Bridget cut her off in a somewhat panicked tone although she tried to hide it. "No dear, you cannot leave just yet. Father Roysten wishes to see you."

"Father?" The bard asked. "Unique."

"Well, we are a unique chantry." Bridget said happily.

With that she guided Leliana towards a stairwell beside the statue. She saw the bard glance at the throne but neither of them passed any comments. They ascended the steep stone stairs quickly as Bridget ushered Leliana into a corridor lined with doors. She approached the one at the far end and knocked softly.

"It is Sister Bridget, I have brought our guest." She called.

"Come in my child." The old man's voice called from the other side.

The two women stepped inside and Leliana gave a short bow while Bridget prostrated herself on the floor before rising. The room was far more luxurious than the other quarters. The bed was larger and the floor was carpeted. Bookshelves crammed full, lined the walls. Sister Bridget had never been able to make out the language half the books had been written in. Father Roysten was reading at a well crafted desk by the light of two candles. The single window in the room did not let in much light at this time.

Bridget gently poked Leliana with her elbow, indicating for her to speak up.

"I am Leliana, it is a pleasure to meet you. I cannot thank you enough for your hospitality."

"I am Father Roysten child and I am pleased to meet you as well." He said with a small smile on his face. "And there is no need to thank any of us; the Maker says we must share our blessings."

Leliana smiled faintly as Father Roysten continued. "I have a more important query to make though. Do you have anywhere to go from here?"

"I... no." Leliana said after a moment's hesitation.

"Then may I make an earnest appeal to you to stay with us for a few days at least, if not a few weeks. I can see you have been through great hardship recently, your eyes say that clearly. I doubt you wish to speak of it now though."

"I would rather not." The bard said diverting her gaze.

Father Roysten nodded. "Will you grace us with your presence Sister Leliana?"

Leliana paused for a moment. To Sister Bridget it felt like forever. She hoped that her silent prayers reached the Maker's ears.

"I accept your gracious offer, thank you so much." She said finally.

Father Roysten rose with a wide smile and hugged Leliana lightly. "Sister Bridget will show you around and give you a room. I am sure you will be comfortable. And whenever you feel ready to confide, I will be happy to listen. Sister Bridget, do answer any questions she has and make sure she is comfortable.

Bridget smiled widely and followed Leliana out of the room.

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"What do you mean she's gone?" Alisa yelled in a slightly panicked tone.

The atmosphere around the camp was tense to say the least. After last night's incident, Leliana had vanished. They had searched for hours in vain around the campsite but found no trace of the bard or any of her belongings.

"This is my fault it would seem." Zevran said softly. "If I had known she was not herself-"

"No, no, no, no." The warden cut him off hysterically as she sat on the ground. "I should have listened, I shouldn't have shouted... oh by the creators what have I done."

"Calm down Alisa, panicking won't help." Alistair tried to relax her. Alisa was almost in tears.

No one noticed the witch's somewhat guilty glance before she turned away.

"We have to go look for her. She can't have gone too far, we'll search this whole damn forest if we have to." Alisa shouted.

"Child, it is a great loss for us all." Wynne said calmly. "But there is a blight that must be stopped. You are a grey warden, you're duty comes above all else. What is done is done, but if you do not focus now all of Ferelden may fall."

A few tears did fall from Alisa's eyes as she got a hold of herself again. "You're right Wynne. We... we have to continue to Orzammar. Although, I'll never forgive myself for this."

The others shot worried looks as the warden began packing up with fury. Morrigan approached slowly to try and help calm Alisa. Was the witch guilty at this point? The answer would be yes. But it would be a lie to say that she did not feel a tinge of satisfaction at having the warden to herself.

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_Author's Note: Well, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Feedback and criticism is welcomed. Next update will be as soon as possible._


	4. The Path You Must Take

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Well, I managed another fairly quick update. I hope you enjoy it._

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Chapter 4 – The Path You Must Take

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Morrigan sat beside the warden on a stone. A cold stone at that. They were fairly high into the Frostback Mountains by this time. It was not snowing at least, but the air nipped and bit at any exposed skin. They were wrapped tightly in their travelling cloaks, eating meals whenever animals could be caught. It was not too hard but the creatures were usually small and the meals not very filling. Still, Orzammar was less than a day away now. The witch could look forward to some warmth and hopefully better food.

Alisa's condition had scarce improved over the past few days. The bard's departure had hit her hard. She had been mostly pleasant, even perky when the atmosphere allowed for it. She had a furious side too, an anger that caused great inconvenience for anyone at the receiving end. On a few occasions, those inconveniences had been permanent. But the warden showed neither of those sides now. She was withdrawn, she spoke only when necessary. Alisa was usually comfortable with Morrigan but her responses had recently been dulled to single words or short sentences. The witch realized that the warden probably blamed herself. She also realized that in truth it was her fault. Well, what was done was done. As expected, they had seen no sign of Leliana. She was probably travelling in the opposite direction anyway. Morrigan finished her stew and then glanced at Alisa who had barely worked through half her portion.

"You should eat it quickly before it gets cold." The witch breathed.

"Everything here gets cold as soon as it's cooked anyway." Alisa muttered but took another few mouthfuls.

"You have to stop blaming yourself Alisa." Morrigan put her arm around the warden's shoulder. She did not shy away. "Maybe mistakes were made but I notice that this is affecting your proficiency in battle as well. This burden of guilt should not be your death. You need to forgive yourself eventually."

"That's almost something Wynne would say." Said Alisa with a ghost of a smile across her lips.

"I'm worried about you." Said the witch softly and she meant it too.

"Thank you Morrigan and I... I understand." Alisa replied quietly. "I don't know if I can forgive myself but I won't let it be my death. My grey warden duty will come first."

"Tis a step in the right direction at least." Said Morrigan smiling as she stood up. She offered her hand to the warden who took it. Alisa hugged her gently. The witch shivered, and not from the cold.

"Thanks again." The warden said as she drew away and got the party ready to move out.

The witch sighed. More trekking through these wretched hills.

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Brother Adrian sat alone in the record room, his quill scratching on the paper. That was the only real sound in the small quiet room. The candle flickered slightly as wax dripped silently onto the table. He was late on finishing this report anyway. Leliana had been here for several days already. He would have written this out on the first day itself but he knew he had time. Father Roysten wouldn't send her away just yet, she hadn't quite opened up. She really was beautiful and she moved with such grace. But Brother Adrian knew that it was nothing but a fleeting fancy or an unreachable dream. The father had something much greater in mind for her.

He was also aware of her preferred sexual preferences. The bard would have been incredibly disturbed if she had looked through the record room. They had managed to amass a fairly impressive pile of information. And all this only over the past several months. That was when Father Roysten had his vision or said he had his vision. The time since then had been chaotic; at least one of them had always tried to tail her. The first great stir had come when she joined the grey warden, Alisa Surana. And then she was here. Adrian shook his head and finished the document. He selected a bound pile of papers from one of the shelves, added this one to it and shoved it back in its place. He blew out the candle and left the room.

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Bridget sat on a chair slightly to the side of the statue. Leliana sat in front of Father Roysten and Bridget could tell she was holding back tears. Father Roysten stared at her with heart melting compassion, one of the many things that had brought Bridget here in the first place. She was the only other person in the room. She supposed she was the only one the bard trusted enough at this point. Bridget had come to look upon Leliana as a friend in the past few days she had been with them. She hoped she was viewed in the same light. Only now had she heard what drove the bard from her companions. Leliana had approached Father Roysten of her own volition and communicated her desire to speak of her past.

Bridget wondered why this was always the case. People always confided in Father Roysten eventually. Perhaps it was the sympathy and care he gave; perhaps it was simply that he truly cared. Whatever it be, it seemed Leliana looked upon him as a father figure maybe. Or he simply reminded her of someone.

She felt a great deal of sympathy for the poor girl. She had, in all honesty, been treated rather horribly in those last few hours. But who was to blame? The apostate witch who poisoned her? The knife-ear assassin who slept with her? The foolish knife-ear warden who wouldn't listen? Perhaps all of them. The unbelievers should be burnt, not only for their sins against the Maker but because of what they forced upon Leliana. She would have gladly done it herself if it were asked of her but Father Roysten always had other plans. She could hear words from the conversation drifting her way.

"Child, what is to follow may hurt but it is important that you recover from this." Said Father Roysten as gently as he could.

There was a pause before Leliana replied. "If it will help, father. I trust you."

Father Roysten nodded before speaking again. "You have been wronged child, by several people. Answer me honestly; do you feel any desire for revenge?"

"Although it is a sin, I do have a slight desire for it. It overtook me at first but it is... better now."

Sister Bridget smiled. Things worked a little differently in this chantry. Revenge was sometimes acceptable, as long as the end result was a service to the Maker. The death of several unbelievers, one of whom was a dangerous apostate probably qualified. Especially if said apostate had an abomination for a mother.

"Child, your natural emotions are not sin. That you have fought it is to your credit. Although I feel that in this case your vengeance may find justification. We will discuss this later in more detail."

An unidentifiable emotion crossed Leliana's face for a moment. Bridget could only guess what it may have been. Doubt and worry that this chantry seemingly condoned sin? Or satisfaction and pleasure at the fact that they looked beyond completely rigid rules and facts?

"Child, your physique indicates a hardened body and weapons were present in your pack. Might I request to know where a chantry sister learned to fight?"

Father Roysten's eyes glinted imperceptibly for a moment. After a pause Leliana recounted her history, of what happened to her in Orlais and why she fled to Ferelden. She looked up at Father Roysten, perhaps fearing judgement due to the sins of her past.

"Child, you are a shining beacon among the Maker's children. You turned away from a path of sin, you found redemption and you have performed your penitence. People like you are rare and I only wish more would see things the same way. I trust, however, that you are still a skilled combatant?"

"I- yes, father."

"Would you be willing to assist us in a small task Sister Leliana?"

"It would be my pleasure."

"You see, I have a liking for collecting old and valuable manuscripts where I can. Some even date to the times of Andraste herself. Recently, I have been informed of an old temple that contains valuable treasures. If possible I would like them to be saved. Brother Robert and Sister Bridget are competent fighters but with your assistance I believe the journey would be quite possible."

Leliana agreed quite quickly. Sister Bridget was still smiling; she knew the girl was still recovering and vulnerable. They would help her by returning a purpose to her life. The bard smiled at her as they left the room to inform Robert. Then there were preparations to be done.

Several minutes after their departure from the hall, Brother Adrian prostrated himself before Father Roysten. He rose at the father's gesture.

"Child, have Brother Tiberius ready himself for a journey to the gates of Orzammar. Sister Elaine is to accompany him."

He paused for a moment as though considering something. Then he spoke again.

"Actually, I shall be leaving with him, let Sister Elaine stay. I wish to confront the warden with the truth now. Take care of the chantry with Sister Elaine. It may be a while before we return. There is much to do now."

Brother Adrian bowed as he left to carry out his instructions.

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The voices stir again in the darkness. It is barely perceptible till the clear voice speaks. Perhaps, it is excited.

"She is coming. It is almost time."

"Finally." The cold and sharp voice says. Perhaps it is relieved.

"I apologise for having to say this but please allow me to speak when she arrives." The clear voice says.

"Very well." The deep voice says.

The darkness shudders.

"No mistakes. Not this time."

"We don't make mistakes." The clear voice remarks. It seems confident.

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_Author's Note: I hope you liked the chapter. Feedback and criticism is welcomed. Next update will hopefully be soon._

_To my reviewers:_

_Kilyra: Thanks a lot! That is kind of the style I was trying to go for. I hope you enjoy what I have planned._


	5. The Truth They Profess

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Looks like I managed another quick update. I hope you like the chapter. We're finally kicking the plot off._

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Chapter 5 – The Truth They Profess

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_To whoever is present at our chantry,_

_I write this letter to keep you notified of our progress. We crossed the final village on our path today and that is where this was dispatched from. Sister Bridget and I know the path well as do we all. Father Roysten has guided us along it several times now. Sister Leliana however is still under the impression that this is the first time we are travelling this path. And it shall stay that way. The countryside is not as pristine as it once was. Large areas are now left ravaged by the darkspawn and perhaps it is only the gifts of Father Roysten that keep them from assaulting our humble abode as well. The village of Mithiase is gone. We all passed it so many times on our errands. It seems the darkspawn attacked there recently._

_It is a horror difficult to describe. They have torn everything apart. Bodies lie scattered across the ground, many half eaten. The number of corpses though is disturbingly few, the monsters took many. The entire place has been burnt to the ground. We killed several of the stragglers on our way through. The people in other villages are scared as well. They cluster in the chantries and beg to the Maker to save them, to forgive them. And we have seen many corrupt priests who abuse the power they now hold. I pray your visions come to pass soon Father for it is as though the entire world is going insane. The blight must be stopped for it is an all consuming plague. And we cannot trust the grey wardens to do it this time._

_Perhaps I have written too much in this letter but I must continue for I need to clear my head and get rid of the thoughts swarming through it. We encountered a roving band of darkspawn between two towns. I thought we would die fighting there. But Sister Leliana is a terror on the battlefield. Much more so than she ever was when we spied on her. Every arrow finds its mark; every strike from a dagger earns a kill. Maker's breath, she killed an ogre by herself. Do not ask me how. I know not if she is channelling her fury and sorrow into her combat but that is my guess. Father Roysten was correct, she is definitely the one._

_Sister Bridget feels that the girl's bard persona is taking hold in this environment. Perhaps this is a cause for concern but it is not my place to decide that. We shall meet Father Roysten at the temple according to schedule. I doubt any darkspawn or bandits would delay us. She is friendly enough when we camp but I would be lying if I said I was not wary and perhaps somewhat afraid._

_Yours and the Maker's eternal servant,_

_Brother Robert._

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Brother Adrian put down the letter. He had just finished decoding it. There was nothing too concerning but he had to wonder if Robert was exaggerating Leliana's prowess in battle. To kill an ogre was no small feat. Adrian decided that the creature must have been wounded at the very least. The alternative though was exhilarating. He wanted to believe Father Roysten's visions and he was ecstatic that proof seemed to be presenting itself. He stored the coded letter away carefully and left the record room with the decoded letter to show Sister Elaine.

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Alisa emerged to the surface from the depths of Orzammar and smiled as the cold, fresh wind buffeted her face, her hair flowing slightly. On the whole, she was fairly satisfied with how things had gone with the dwarves. King Harrowmont had promised aid and the warden expected that he would do good on that promise. And they had a drunk dwarf tagging along with them now. The one incident she wished to forget had been the anvil of the void.

It had not only been the horror of what had become of the dwarves who went with Branka, not only the truth about the golems but also the enormous argument she had had with Morrigan. The witch had wanted the anvil preserved and Alisa had wanted it destroyed. Morrigan had relented in the end but they hadn't spoken for a long time after that. Since then, the witch had apologized and things were mostly back on track.

Alisa liked to think of Morrigan as one of her close friends now. The witch had helped her in dealing with Leliana's departure, they had all helped. It still weighed heavily on her, it probably always would. But she was beginning to accept it.

"Wonderful, now we can freeze to death again." Morrigan announced as she emerged.

"You should complain less Morrigan." Alisa said with a smile.

They descended the steps, bickering good naturedly. She turned her head at Alistair's tap on her shoulder. She turned her head forward to find a chantry priest standing beside an old man in a white robe who was leaning on a staff. His eyes were boring into hers. She stepped back, caught slightly off guard. He walked towards them, hobbling a little.

"Alisa Surana, the grey warden. A pleasure to meet you at last." He said warmly. "I am Father Roysten."

"Now what do these fools want?" The witch muttered.

"Shut it Morrigan." Alistair hissed.

"How can I help you?" The warden enquired carefully.

"I have come to talk to you about your old companion, Leliana."

The atmosphere froze and no one moved. Alisa looked visibly shaken. She found her voice in a few minutes.

"Wh- what do you know about her? Where is she? Is she alright?"

"She is fine, no thanks to you." Roysten said coldly. "You drove her away in a horrible manner."

"Who are you to pass judgement you senile old fool?" Morrigan screamed, apparently upset by the pronouncement.

"Still your tongue apostate witch." He barked. "The Maker shall damn you to eternal torment when it is your time to move on."

"There is no Maker. Tis just a silly fable you chantry fools made up." The witch responded as aggressively despite the others trying to calm her.

"We shall see." Roysten said, effectively ending his argument with the witch. "I come to deliver unto you the truth."

He turned to lock eyes with the warden once more before speaking.

"Her destiny is no longer with you. It is time you knew that dear Leliana is the messiah of the end." He said in a slightly tired voice.

"What do you mean?" The warden demanded.

"What I mean, unbeliever knife-ear, is that she will, one way or another, be responsible for the end of your world."

There was silence for several minutes following the pronouncement. After that Morrigan burst out laughing.

"You truly are insane, aren't you?" She mocked. "Leliana? End the world? Impossible. She is a competent warrior, certainly but by no means does she have the power you claim. She isn't even a mage."

"Power can always be found by those who truly seek it." Father Roysten said softly.

"Where is she?" Alisa hissed through gritted teeth, her patience running thin.

"You do not deserve that answer. I only wish you to know that the world shall soon end. At it will be all your fault, for you were the one who drove her away."

"You're lucky I didn't kill you." The warden muttered darkly.

Father Roysten spoke one last time as he hobbled away, the chantry priest helping him.

"Kill me if you will, but know one thing. You can't kill the messiah."

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_Author's Note: Well, I hope you liked the chapter. Feedback and criticism is welcomed. Next update will hopefully be soon._

_To my reviewers:_

_Nightwish11606: High five right back! Thanks a lot for the review and I'm glad you like it so far. You're very welcome for the shoutout and thanks again for providing my inspiration here!_


	6. The Whispers in the Dark

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Well, here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it. Be sure to leave me your thoughts :)_

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Chapter 6 – The Whispers in the Dark

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"Do you think there's any truth in what he said?" Alisa asked softly as she stared into the flickering flames of the campfire.

The group had stopped for the night; they had spoken little during the day's journey. The cold had lessened to a degree but the fire offered tempting warmth nonetheless. Even Morrigan had joined the rest of them instead of pitching her tent on the outskirts of the camp. Wynne turned to look at Alisa, distracting herself from the task of cooking for a moment.

"Child, think about it yourself." She said gently. "Do you honestly believe Leliana could end the world?"

"No." The warden replied in a small voice. "But how did he know about her and what happened that night?"

"Now that is a more realistic concern." The old mage replied. "I believe she has found herself in a chantry. But we cannot theorize about this forever. You are aware that she can take care of herself."

"Yes but... I'm worried and I want to apologize..." Alisa muttered.

"The blight is still our first concern." Wynne said firmly.

"I know. Perhaps after this nightmare is over, I'll get a chance to sort things out."

"I hope you do child for you deserve it."

"Thank you, Wynne."

The old mage simply smiled and resumed the task of cooking. The warden's attention turned to Alistair who looked extremely distracted. He had seemed preoccupied for the entire day and had spoken little. He hadn't even risen to any of Morrigan's usual jibes which was particularly unusual.

"What's wrong?" The warden asked, looking him in the eye.

He hesitated a moment before replying. "When we brushed past those two on our way down. You remember, right?"

Alisa nodded. On their way they had crossed paths with Roysten and the chantry priest again. The warden had ignored them and strode past furiously but she also knew that Alistair had been trailing the group at the time.

"Well, the priest shoved this letter into my hand." The templar muttered. "I don't even know if it's true but... you won't like it."

"Give it to me." Alisa said firmly.

Alistair sighed and handed it over. He then looked away as the warden glanced over the contents. A flicker of emotion crossed her face as she raised her eyes to stare at the witch who was sitting on the other side of the fire.

"Morrigan, what did you do that night?" Alisa almost growled.

Panic set into the witch's mind as she realized what the letter must have said.

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Brother Robert climbed the last few feet of the hillock and surveyed the plain before him. Things were fairly clear despite night having fallen. The green grass the seemed to stretch everywhere sparsely dotted with trees and shrubs was a beautiful sight indeed. At least some things remained untouched by the blight. To his greater pleasure though were the ruins he could notice in distance. Downed pillars and broken walls were more clearly visible although he could make out the shape of the overgrown temple. The darkspawn usually steered clear of this place anyway.

"That should be it." He announced as Leliana and Bridget strode to the top.

"Finally." Said the bard with a small smile on her face. "I guess we can camp after we reach the temple."

The journey across the expanse did take almost an hour more though. The light of the moon and the stars was enough to allow them to walk comfortably, though. Soon they began to cross the collapsed pillars and every time Robert passed this way he noticed the exquisite architecture. The pillars had been built with elegant carvings which had now been wasted away with time. Faint tracings could still be made out although nothing meaningful could be drawn from them. The walls had all been carved with near perfect cuboids of stone, although those too were now in a state of decay. The temple had been abandoned ages ago. The entire place was dead but it still gave him chills.

Leliana froze and gasped as they reached the temple entrance. That had been the reaction of all the others as well on their first trip. Giant statues of dragons loomed over them in all directions with one atop the temple entrance itself. Although the details had been eroded away and they were overgrown with plant life, they still retained their terrible majesty. Subtly tucked into corners, they were hard to notice until you were at the gateway itself. A wide staircase descended downwards into the earth and faint light emerged from within.

"We will wait here for a while, Sister Leliana." Bridget said. "We await someone."

The bard nodded before speaking. "But... what is this place?"

"We'll find out soon." Was Robert's short answer.

They waited for half an hour at the most. That short half hour though was not easy on any of their minds, especially with the statues looming from dark corners. They eventually rose to the shound of footsteps.

"It is good to see that you have arrived safely." Came Father Roysten's voice as he approached.

"Father... how?" Asked Leliana in surprise.

"I found a shorter route to the temple. I apologize for not conveying it to you sooner. I am here because I wish to see this place myself."

"Who is that?" Asked the bard suspiciously, pointing to a man who Brother Tiberius was holding at knife point.

"He is a sinner from a local village. Apparently, his family was killed by darkspawn. His answer was to deface the prophet's statues, rant against the Maker and attempt to burn the local chantry to the ground. He was going to be sentenced to death but we took him off their hands." Tiberius explained.

The captive was a young bearded man, currently unconscious. No one said a word about the man's predicament. If Leliana was suspicious of the events that were unfolding, she didn't show it. Without hesitation she followed Father Roysten into the depths of the temple.

"Do you know what this temple is, Father?" The bard questioned as she cast her gaze around.

The same type of dragon statues lined the crumbling alcoves of the ancient temple. No one commented on the fires that burnt in the braziers brightly. The carvings within were etched as elegantly and altars decorated several corners. A dull red stain could be found on most of them if you looked carefully. There was a single long hallway that split away. A doorway, larger than the others, could be found at the far end.

"This ancient place was built by the order of Archon Thalsian." Father Roysten said as the neared the door.

The bard froze. "You mean the first of the tevinter magisters. The person who brought blood magic into the world. Why are we here?"

"Calm down, child." He replied in a relaxed tone. "This place is dead. We have only come for any documents that we may find."

"Then why do the fires still burn if the place is dead?"

"It is rumoured that fires burn eternally by the power of the tevinter gods. More likely, it is nothing but long lasting magic. Come child, trust me."

The bard hesitantly followed them they found themselves in a circular chamber. The central circle glowed with an eerie bluish green light and was surrounded by seven massive dragon statues. They stood hypnotized by the lifelike sculptures which seemed to have lost none of their detail to the ravages of time.

"Remarkable." Father Roysten whispered grabbing the captive away from Brother Tiberius. "The circle is carved in Lyrium. No wonder this place is... unique."

Leliana noticed a little too late as Robert, Bridget and Tiberius stepped discreetly out of the circle. Father Roysten cut the man's throat as blood spilt on the Lyrium Circle igniting a powerful purple light that illuminated the chamber. He chanted a short verse in a language the bard could not understand.

"I am sorry for the deception child." He said with genuine sorrow as he finished his spell. "But you will see the need soon."

The purple light engulfed their vision and Leliana passed into unconsciousness.

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Father Roysten and the bard found themselves on a rock floating in the fade. Madness and chaos swirled around them as they struggled to get their bearings. The only thing of interest on the rock was a door carved into a wall. It was so dark that it was like looking upon the void itself.

"Where are we?" Leliana shouted.

"The fade."

"It doesn't look like the fade, I've been there before." Replied the bard, still surprisingly calm.

"This is a unique part of the fade. One that cannot be reached by ordinary means."

"Why are you even doing any of this?"

"You shall see in a moment." Said Father Roysten as he approached the black door. "Do you hear me, old ones?"

His shout echoed through the area. A female voice spoke from beyond the gate. It was crystal clear.

"I am Razikale, tevinter dragon god of mystery and I speak for silence."

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_Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Feedback and criticism welcomed. The next update may actually be delayed by a couple of days so apologies in advance. Regardless, see you all soon (hopefully)._

_To my reviewers:_

_Nightwish11606: Thanks a lot! Hope you like what's coming._


	7. Unholy Blessing

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Sorry for the slight delay in getting this up. But let's jump right in. I hope you like it._

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Chapter 7 – Unholy Blessing

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Morrigan stood by her tent at the edge of camp, unconsciously shuffling her feet a bit. What she was concentrating on was the furious expression on Alisa's face as she held the vial of hallucinogenic poison in front of her face. After reading the letter, she had dragged Morrigan towards the witch's tent. The others had, perhaps wisely, chosen not to follow. The witch knew she should have gotten rid of the evidence but she had felt it would have been useful. She would never have let anyone search through her belongings but this time she hadn't had much of a choice. Alisa had demanded to look and Morrigan could not deny her.

"What is this Morrigan?" She screamed. At the witch's stony silence she analyzed the contents a little more carefully. "Maybe a poison expert, say Zevran, would be able to shed more light on this. Although I'm guessing it's a hallucinogen isn't it?"

"Yes." The witch mumbled. She had decided to abandon her previous plan of keeping quiet or lying. The show was up, so to say. She had may as well tell the truth now. She knew very well about Alisa's fury but she had never thought it would end up directed at her.

"Did you slip this into Leliana's food that night?" The elf's voice had taken on a dangerous quality now.

"I did." Morrigan said quietly, her had downcast.

"You bitch!" Alisa shouted and slapped Morrigan hard across the face. The witch clutched her cheek but did not retaliate.

"It's all your fault that Leliana is gone! You're lucky that I'm not going to kill you." The warden growled.

"I'm sorry. I did it because... because I felt threatened." Morrigan said, almost sobbing. She struggled to hold the tears back.

"Threatened? What the hell does that mean?" Alisa shouted. The witch could see that the elf was on the verge of striking her again.

"I- I like you a lot Alisa. I wanted you to myself. I was jealous and I'm sorry." Morrigan managed, holding back the lump in her throat. "I think I might even love you."

"Creators damn you, you miserable harpy!" Alisa barked. "I don't want anyone who behaves like you did. You like manipulating people don't you. Just like you manipulated us into killing Flemeth for you. I thought I had found a good friend in you. Then my friend betrays me and drives away the woman I wanted."

The warden slapped her furiously across the other cheek before turning away. Morrigan lost balance and practically collapsed on the floor.

"You're lucky I'm not sending you away. You can travel with us if you want to help but never, never speak to me again." The elf spat as she walked away, her feet digging into the ground.

The witch lay there, letting a few tears roll down her cheeks. She was angry but somewhere she realized that she deserved it. She would continue to travel, although the desire to kill them all in their sleep was strong. She would make this up, one way or another.

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"This is ridiculous!" Leliana yelled. "You can't possibly be consorting with the old gods!"

Father Roysten had expected this. There would always be a resistance to accepting such things. But he would make sure that he went down in history as the man who used the power of the Maker's greatest enemies to enforce his will. The only unfortunate thing was that there would likely be no history. He looked around at the swirling madness of the fade. This prison seemed to be everywhere and nowhere simultaneously. He suspected that was the reason it was so difficult to reach.

"Please child, be quiet for a moment. I must converse. All your doubts will be assuaged, I promise." He said to her gently before turning to face the gate again. "I thought I may be speaking to Dumat."

"No mortal may hear the voice of the god of silence. I speak for him." Razikale's voice emerged. "Mortal, allow us to make you an offer."

The bard shook her head violently. Father Roysten knew he would have to make more effort. "We should leave. Now." She said.

"The girl is mortal and not a mage." Razikale's clear voice echoed. "She is perfect. Touch the gate and I shall bestow upon you much energy. You may use it only to smash open our gate. This will free us and free Urthemiel of his curse. The blight shall be ended and we shall give you great power."

"Never!" Leliana shouted, still looking sharply at Father Roysten.

"We are not fools old one. Let me make you a deal." Roysten called out. "You give her enough enrgy to crack the gate. This will prevent true freedom but it should strengthen you enough to break away from the curse. This will end the blight and stop all future ones. In exchange, you give her power."

"What are you saying?" The bard questioned.

"Think about it child. They will still be trapped, we will have ended the blight and you will have enough power to make the world a better place. Carry out the Maker's will with the power of his foes. It would be the greatest service in his name."

He saw Leliana bite her lip, thinking.

"Child, you have been betrayed far too many times in your life already. You deserve the chance to make the world a better place and to remove those who tarnish the Maker's name. You've earned some degree of revenge and you know it."

A long moment passed. Eventually, the bard spoke.

"Alright." She said in a cracking voice. "I'll do it. But why would they accept such a deal?"

"Because child, they will do anything to escape the curse they suffer."

"We accept your terms as well." Razikale said. "Leliana, step forward and place your hand on the gate."

Father Roysten saw her walk forward and hesitantly place her hand on the gateway. A surge of red energy passed over her body for a moment. She pulled away from the dark gate. A nova of energy pulsed in her right hand, throbbing as though it wished to burst forth.

"I... feel it." The bard muttered. "It'll only crack the gate... they told the truth..."

"Of course." Razikale spoke. "We never break the terms of an agreement. Now crack the gate."

Father Roysten observed as Leliana raised her hand and a blaze of red energy struck the black gateway. It sounded like a violent thunderstorm. It stopped abruptly a few seconds later. The glowing cracks were easily noticeable, in stark contrast to the blackness of the door. There was silence for several moments.

"Very well." Razikale spoke. "Urthemiel is free now and the blight is over. Place your hand on the doorway once more Leliana and receive our blessing."

Father Roysten's heart beat eagerly as the orlesian placed her hand upon the doorway one more time. This time she was enveloped in an iridescent white cocoon and lifted into the air.

"I am Zazikel, tevinter dragon god of chaos." A voice which rapidly changed its pitch emerged. "I bless you that magic may do you next to no harm and that you may ignite madness should you choose to."

"I am Andoral, tevinter dragon god of chains." A harsh, sharp and cold voice emerged. "I bless with the gift to use my own chains that may tear into the mind, body and souls of your foes."

"I am Toth, tevinter dragon god of fire." A hot and furious voice emerged. "I bless with the gift to call upon flames that may burn away entire armies."

"I am Urthemiel, tevinter dragon god of beauty." A heavenly and musical voice spoke. "I bless you with beauty beyond that of mortals. I bless you with beauty that can enthral if you wish."

"I am Lucasan, tevinter dragon god of night." A deep voice emerged. "I bless you with the ability to walk in the shadows, that only those who search for you may see you."

"I am Razikale, tevinter dragon god of mystery." The clear voice said. "I give you the gift of magic, the touch of Lyrium. I bless you with great knowledge."

"And now I speak for Dumat, tevinter dragon god silence." Razikale continued. "The lord blesses you with the ability to hear his voice and that you may hear our whispers at your leisure and that, if you choose, you may whisper back."

Father Roysten watched as the cocoon faded away and Leliana descended to the ground. But she had changed and he had expected that. If she was beautiful before, she now looked like a goddess. The ideal face, the ideal body but that is not to say she was weak. On the contrary, the tone of the muscles now showed strength he did not think he had seen before. Her hair was longer now; it fell open down to her waist. It reminded him of flowing fire. She was taller too now and power practically seeped from her. The blue eyes now seemed cold though, cold and calculating. Regardless, Father Roysten knew it was time to leave the fade.

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"You see, our freedom is close." Razikale said as the two vanished.

"The door is only cracked." Andoral hissed. "We hope you know what you are doing."

"Of course." Razikale said plainly. "There were some unsaid additions to the deal. For one, I amplified her emotions. Her fury and desire for vengeance are much enhanced. This should bring swift death upon certain people. Also, every time she uses her power the door shall crack a little more. It will take time but our eventual freedom is guaranteed."

"I see we have switched away from our previous intentions." Came Urthemiel's musical voice.

"This way is better though." Toth said. "Now we have our champion."

"Flemeth will not pass into obsolescence quietly." Lucasan interjected.

Zazikel laughed. "Let her do what she wishes. You must realize she cannot touch our champion. That orlesian girl is practically a demigod now."

"I can guess how Flemeth would act." Came Dumat's voice. "It will be to our advantage and Razikale is aware of that."

"Yes, things will go as expected." The clear voice said confidently. "And that fool Roysten actually thinks he can control us. In truth, we control him."

"I was simply seeing if this works." Leliana's voice suddenly echoed through their prison.

"Of course it will work." Razikale responded.

"In that case, answer a question as well. Since you are clearly real and the Maker is likely real, do the elven creators exist as well?" She inquired matter-of-factly.

"Leliana, even if they did they would be no match for you." Razikale laughed. "It will take you some time to realize the true extent of your powers. You must understand one thing though; you are practically a goddess yourself."

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_Author's Note: Well, this was a reasonably eventful chapter. As you can tell, my take on old god lore is somewhat different from canon and shall be explored as we go along. I hope you enjoyed it. Feedback and criticism is welcomed. Next update will likely be delayed but I hope to get it up as soon as possible._

_To my reviewers:_

_Nightwish11606: Thanks for the review! Morrigan is now on even thinner ice. And Father Roysten probably won't be around too much from now although he is still important._

_interesting2125: Thanks a lot! I completely agree, immortal dragons bringing about apocalypse is fairly awesome. I always found the old god lore really interesting so I decided to write my own take on it. As for Lel, she has seen one other male led chantry before. The crazy bunch in Haven. I know her response is muted (and even more so considering the haven incident) but I haven't written anything from her perspective yet. I will though... eventually :) Thanks for pointing it out though, this way it won't slip my mind later!_


	8. Reborn

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Well, I managed to squeeze in another update. I hope you like it. Minor violence warning for the end of the chapter._

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Chapter 8 – Reborn

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"You must be careful with her." Dumat's voice tears through the darkness.

"I don't understand lord." Razikale replies.

"I do not trust Leliana."

"Why?" Zazikel asks carefully.

"I am suspicious that she wanted the power. This prison inhibits our capacity to read minds. I simply suggest we handle the situation with care."

"She does not seem the type of human who craves power." Urthemiel almost sings.

"Appearances are often deceiving." Lucasan says.

"Would it actually matter if she wanted to stab us in the back?" Andoral says with some mirth. "Our advantage is that we do not need the prison entirely broken."

"Indeed." Razikale laughs. "We can make do with less. At a certain point we shall be able to take matters into our own hands."

"And till then, we have an unbeatable champion." Toth continues. "It is perfect."

"I have been thinking; Flemeth has two options not one." Zazikel says suddenly.

"What would the other one be?" Urthemiel's tones echo in the dark.

"She could choose to search for the creators."

Dumat laughs. The world threatens to crumble at the sound. "Do you remember Arlathan? They were too afraid to oppose us then and now we are in an even better position. The cowards will be no issue."

"Wasn't the lack of interference back then due to..." Toth begins.

"It would make little difference either way." Razikale cuts him off. "I was not jesting you know. Leliana really could kill the creators. Flemeth has only one choice and she will make it."

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Robert, Tiberius and Bridget were hypnotized to say the least. Leliana looked hardly human now, the ethereal beauty granted by Urthemiel saw to that. It wasn't just the looks however; the bard was something more than human now. Father Roysten looked extremely pleased. The one thing he had not noted in the fade however was that Leliana's chantry robes were gone. Instead she was wearing form fitting black armour with certain edges that were unusually jagged. It looked extremely light but he wouldn't have questioned its strength. He guessed that it too must have been a gift from the old gods.

"Child you have been granted the power to carry out the Mak-" He began but was swiftly cut off.

"Spare the lecture." The bard said icily. "What did you want me to do?"

Father Roysten was given pause for a moment. He may have chastised her for the disrespect but he understood that she could probably kill him with a wisp of thought. He would have to tread carefully.

"The situation in Ferelden is being highly complicated by the amount of power held by Teyrn Loghain and his new lackey Arl Howe." He continued to recite his prepared dialogue. "I also believe that they have gone insane. Unless we remove them-"

"I understand Roysten." Leliana snapped. "Someone has to get rid of them, may as well be me. Besides I have business in Denerim."

"Pardon me for asking but what business is this?" Roysten queried.

"Nothing much, an old debt I have to repay. Alisa and I intended to do it when we visited Denerim next. I think I'll just get it over with though."

With that she turned and strode out of the temple without a word or backward glance. Her long red hair flowed faintly in the wind.

"What have we wrought?" Tiberius blurted.

"It is mostly as expected, do not worry." Father Roysten replied. "She does not need to answer to us anymore. In fact, there is no one she need answer to anymore. But I still trust she will do what is right. She has, of course, earned a small dose of revenge as well."

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Morrigan passed through the gates of Redcliffe castle. The sun shone brightly, in sharp contrast to her mood. Since that night she had always followed at the tail of the group, lagging behind and lost in her thoughts. The others had spoken shortly to her but she had never been particularly friendly with any of them. What had hurt her the most though was the fact that Alisa was ignoring her completely. The warden hadn't said a single word to her, not even an order in the heat of battle. She had tried repeatedly to apologize, only to be treated as though she didn't exist. The witch's frustration was on the rise and often she had pondered simply leaving. But she couldn't bring herself to do that. She didn't want to leave the warden behind; she wanted to mend their relationship. And she still intended to accomplish the purpose she had initially set out with.

The security around the castle was a little laxer than usual, she had noted. It was also unusual that they had encountered no darkspawn for the past day or two. Their group was hurried towards Arl Eamon as the warden stepped forward to relay the news of what had occurred in Orzammar. If anyone in the castle noticed Leliana's absence they did not say a word.

"Warden, there is some... unusual news to relay." Arl Eamon said after hearing Alisa out. "The darkspawn have been retreating. I have just been receiving reports from all nearby areas reporting the same thing. I cannot be sure, but it is possible that they are withdrawing from all regions."

"They could simply be massing for an attack." Alistair pointed out.

"Perhaps you are correct. If anything, we should be more cautious with this new development. I have called the landsmeet, since Loghain must be dealt with one way or another. We shall leave in a few days time. Till then, make yourselves comfortable."

Morrigan tried to catch Alisa but the warden simply brushed past her. The witch walked slowly to the room she had been given and collapsed on the frustratingly comfortable bed. She honestly had no idea what she should do. She supposed that being relentless was the only weapon she had. She fell asleep a short while later. At least her dreams were pleasant.

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The bandits had been camped in this forest clearing for a few hours. Relaxation was something you earned after a hard days looting and killing. They had ambushed a small refugee group here not so long ago. The poor fools had resisted, to their own demise. Their leader was not particularly fond of killing nor was he a truly evil man. It had started off as desperation. They had to survive the blight as best they could. They were simply the people who had used less moral means to get by. He had morphed however into someone who now enjoyed this lifestyle. It had been paying well so far, there was plenty of food to get and more than enough women. He was satisfied and content, especially since the darkspawn had moved away from these woods. He considered himself very smart in that regard. Most refugees now avoided the highway when they could to avoid bandits. So he simply hunted in the woods. He would have run at that point if he had known a certain woman was going to see them on her way to Denerim.

He had been eating a rather rich loaf of bread, with his compatriots sitting around. They had found some liquor to loot from this particular caravan as well. It had been a good afternoon and they were all content to ignore the corpses lying about the wagon. Most of the women were now nude apart from just dead. How would the Maker have judged an individual like this? The answer was obvious, even to him. It was also apparent to the red haired woman who was spying from the shadow of the trees. The bandits had looked casually in that direction often enough but there was clearly nothing. What happened after that was fairly sudden. One moment the bandit leader had been swallowing a piece of bread and the next moment he was suspended in the air tethered by twisted black chains.

The chains seemed to emerge from tears in reality itself. And how they burnt. The bandits' screams tore through the forests as birds flittered out of the trees and flew away in fright. And they didn't simply hurt where they tethered him. His entire body ached. Even his mind ached as all he could focus on were the worst memories of his past. He could faintly make out an extremely beautiful woman with flowing red hair walk into the clearing. It was as though she had emerged from nowhere. Two black daggers spun casually in her fingertips. And there was no mercy in those eyes. She stepped in front of the bandit leader and said something softly. Her voice was drowned out by screams. The part of his mind that could still think and was not being tortured panicked as it saw the daggers move. One towards the eye, the other towards places better not mentioned. His screams intensified, if that were possible. His voice box would have torn a few minutes later if things had continued that way. What he felt next was unimaginable heat and then everything went black.

The woman sheathed her daggers and continued on her way to Denerim, apparently unperturbed by what she had done. There was someone in that city who would end up suffering a lot more. At least, that was her intention.

A particularly intelligent wolf loped through the forest, attracted by the bandits' screams. It had taught itself that screams usually meant food would become readily available a short time after that. The scent of blood led it to the clearing. It was disappointed and surprised to find a few drops of blood. Everything else was ash.

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_Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed it. Feedback and criticism welcomed. Next update shall be... I'm not sure (not more than a three day delay hopefully)._

_To my reviewers:_

_Nightwish11606: The he-man humor made me smile. Also, we shall be looking at things from Leli's perspective as well when the time is right. Do share your thoughts on 'goddess' Leliana. I'm eager to hear them._

_interesting2125: Couple of reasons I chose to ditch the blight actually. One, I wanted something different and two, I wanted all seven old gods to work with :P Their taking bodies once more is a question for another time. Also, no, Marjolaine isn't dead. And yes, she's pretty much screwed._


	9. Tipping the Scales

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Well, this and the next few chapters should be pretty eventful. And my, Leliana has changed a lot hasn't she? Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter. Also, this chapter contains a bit of a violence warning. I have a feeling this might end up having its rating changed to M. Someone please tell me when I start to toe that line._

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Chapter 9 – Tipping the Scales

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"The last free elven god stirs. Do you not feel it?" Razikale asks.

"The cracking of our prison would have disturbed the fade enough for him to notice." Dumat responds.

"What will he do now? Free the others?" Zazikel laughs.

"No, he shall not undo his hard work. Not yet anyway." Andoral responds.

"He shall seek our prison out, I suspect. He will wish to confirm his fears." Toth speaks.

"And we shall be waiting." Urthemiel sings. "We can only hope that the prison is sufficiently cracked by then."

"Indeed, it would be amusing to have a pet." Lucasan says. "But what if he should succeed in freeing the others?"

"If all goes as hoped then I shall be free by then." Dumat's voice echoes. "And then they shall know the meaning of power. I shall tear the heavens asunder."

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Marjolaine had been decidedly uncomfortable in her residence at Denerim. She disliked Ferelden with a vengeance. It was so barbaric and all she longed for was to return to Orlais. But she had important business here. The assassins she had sent had failed miserably and given up her location at that. Although, the bard master had planned for that eventuality. But Leliana hadn't come in some time. She was willing to wait just a little longer before dispatching another group of assassins. Paying the mercenaries who guarded her was getting cumbersome and annoying day by day. She relaxed in the chair, hoping that the bard would come to her that day.

She would probably have to kill dear Leliana eventually. Still, she was sure she could worm some enjoyment in before having to deal the final blow. She heard the distinct sound of splintering wood outside the door and jerked up from her chair. She could only hope that this was what she expected. A few moments later the door to her room cracked open. The guards in the side rooms readied themselves for an ambush. A faint drift of ash entered the rooms. This made the bard master wonder what exactly had happened to the guards outside.

When the woman stepped through the door, Marjolaine couldn't believe her eyes. She had readied her little speech enough times, she knew where to start but the words wouldn't come. Could that really be Leliana? She was inhumanly beautiful now, her hair long and lustrous, the unusual black armour was a little worrying and the daggers were far more cruelly shaped than the weapons the bard usually used. And her warm, often trusting, occasionally hard blue eyes had changed as well. They were still blue, but cold. Marjolaine was too stunned to feel even jealousy at this point. Leliana raised her hand as blazes of energy tore open the two side doors, revealing her mercenaries. They moved as quickly as they could but waves of lightning incapacitated them in moments. The bard master was now close to collapsing on the floor or perhaps fainting. Of all things, Leliana had never been a _mage_.

"Leliana...?" She managed to ask.

Her eyes were still sharply aware of her surroundings. Some parts of being a bard never left you. She noticed clearly as reality seemed to fold on itself in several spots around her. From the resulting voids, dark chains emerged. Two wrapped themselves around her legs and two around her arms. In a moment she was suspended in the air, the chains causing horrific pains. She tried to resist the urge to scream, but they came eventually of their own accord. Leliana walked slowly towards her.

"Hello Marjolaine. Such a pleasure to see you again." She said in mock delight. She leaned up and placed a lingering kiss on the bard master's lips. She was in too much pain to even notice the sensation.

The bard quirked her head a bit, as though considering something. A moment later a cruel smile crossed her face as she raised her hands. Through the pain, Marjolaine looked down. Her screams became those of terror alongside those of pain. And the terrible memories that were forcing themselves through her head were something else entirely. She could see the frosty ice creeping up her left leg and the painful contrast that her right leg was on fire. The two waves crept higher with maddening slowness. In a moment Marjolaine felt she might die of pain. Then, Leliana spoke.

"I am granting you mercy you don't deserve. You should be happy you got off so easily." She said coldly, kissing the bard master one last time as another chain emerged to wrap itself around Marjolaine's neck. It took a mere second for the neck to break. The chains withdrew and the fire and ice faded away as the abused body collapsed on the floor in a heap. The bard was already gone, faded into the shadows.

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Denerim should have been pleasant at this time of year. The recent political upheavals had thus far had little effect on the exterior. The undercurrent of dissatisfaction was present but not really acted upon. Denerim had a motley crew of guards. There were always just enough to keep a certain level of law and order while protecting key political figures. Loghain, Howe and Anora were, of course, the most well guarded people in the city. That afternoon however, things had changed. Zazikel's madness and chaos had taken a hold of the city due to the actions of a certain red haired bard. The massive protests throughout the city and violence in the alienage were, in essence, a distraction. Leliana had wanted to avoid unnecessary inconveniences and witnesses where possible. There would be very few guards left with Loghain and Howe. To her luck and pleasure, the two of them happened to be meeting.

Finding people was a painfully easy task when one could explore without being seen. Lucasan's gift was certainly useful. She had searched from the shadows, sneaking through doors when no one was looking. She did eventually chance upon their little meeting. The two guards outside the door would present little to no problem for her. Within the chamber however there were four individuals present. Loghain, Howe, Ser Cauthrien and an unimportant mage bodyguard. Two extra casualties wouldn't cause any significant problems, of that the bard was sure.

Loghain himself was in a rather foul mood. This protest was ridiculous and far too sudden to be expected. It was already providing a huge drain on the city's guards and it would have to be quelled soon, especially with the landsmeet coming. He did not want to project the picture that Anora was an incompetent ruler and that he could not manage simple situations. He knew that Howe was a snake, but a reliable snake who certainly had his uses. The balance of power in Ferelden was subtle but present. Perhaps that foolish grey warden didn't even understand she was on the other side of the scale with the bastard son of Maric. And Eamon was with them as well. Loghain was convinced that the old fool wanted the throne for himself. He would do what he had to do to protect his homeland. He did not realize however, that this subtle balance was about to be significantly disturbed.

One moment he had been discussing matters with Howe and Cauthrien and the next instant he found himself trapped in a crushing prison of magic. He was a careful person and calm in times of crisis. He understood that an assassination attempt was underway and reacted as he should. Now, for someone who is strong willed enough breaking out of a magic prison is not a stunningly difficult task. But when that particular prison happens to be wrought by Razikale's magic, the issue is different. He noticed a lovely red haired woman emerge from the shadows. It felt more like she had emerged from nowhere. She eyed them curiously but made no move to react. Loghain put all his force into cracking his prison and felt some movement return to his limbs. A few moments later he collapsed upon the cold stone floor, exhausted but free. The assassin had an amused and perhaps somewhat impressed smile on her face. It quickly faded to be replaced by a cruel grin as Loghain charged her, withdrawing his sword and shield. He felt reasonably confident at this point, no mage could best him once he had closed the distance.

He was forced to eat his words a second later as his strokes were effortlessly parried aside by daggers. It would seem as though the blades swung lightly through the air but the force behind each blow was shocking. Cauthrien was a warrior and yet Loghain couldn't help but notice that this woman's strokes came far harder and far stronger. He was tired as well; breaking the prison had sapped his strength. He could hear banging on the door as the guards from the outside tried to break in to offer assistance. A pity for them that the door had been magically reinforced from within by the assassin. A few seconds later Loghain noticed his foe's attacks come faster and with far more ferocity. Anger welled in him as he realized he was merely being toyed with. Another few moments later, he fell victim to a flurry of blows. He knew immediately that he had been struck in at least three critical locations. His last blow glanced off the woman's black armour with little effect. One of the daggers glowed red hot and pierced his heart, melting through his armour as though it were paper.

The others had not been as successful in escaping their prisons at all and they were dispatched with next to no effort. Leliana faded into the shadows as she released the magical protection on the door allowing the guards to break in and survey the horrific scene before them. The bard left Denerim with no trouble at all. Couriers left shortly after her to spread the news.

"Leliana?" Razikale called into the bard's mind.

"Yes?" The bard said impatiently.

"Your dear warden will likely be leaving Redcliffe soon to visit Denerim. Especially after this little incident. Maybe you'd like to... meet them."

"I might at that." Leliana replied, ending the conversation.

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Alisa hurried towards Arl Eamon's chamber. She had been sent an urgent summons. They were due to leave tomorrow for the landsmeet. She noticed Morrigan in the library on her way but did not react at all. She hadn't forgiven the witch and doubted she ever would. The pain of Leliana's absence had grown on her the past few days. She knew she would get over it eventually, she had to. Everyone has to move on.

"Greetings, Arl Eamon." She said respectfully as she entered the room. Teagan and Isolde were also present, with worried expressions on their faces.

"There is no need to be so formal my friend." The Arl replied. "But I am afraid I have some... unusual news. Loghain has been assassinated."

"What?" The warden asked, a stunned expression on her face.

"His bodyguard and Arl Howe are also dead." He continued. "I am not quite sure how we should proceed from here. Anora is still queen and hopefully she can manage the situation. The landsmeet will have to delayed a bit, but it is vital that we have it. And there have been no reports of darkspawn in the past several days at all."

Something about the entire situation felt ominous to Alisa, she felt something was wrong. Of course, she couldn't put her finger on it quite yet. She supposed that she would find out in the days to come, for better or worse.

"Why don't I take my group and leave for Denerim immediately. Maybe we can help with the situation there and clear the name of the grey wardens." Alisa suggested.

"That may be wise. I will leave in a few days time and join you there. Have a safe journey warden."

She thanked them for the hospitality and left to gather everyone so that they could depart.

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"Do you think she will confront them?" Zazikel asks.

"Of course." Razikale says. "She may not kill them but she will most certainly hurt them."

"The warden and her group are competent fighters." Lucasan says.

"You must understand." Razikale says patiently. "For one, they will be reluctant to fight her. Two, Andoral's chains will make all their warriors worthless. Third, Zazikel's gift makes her nigh immune to magic. If there is any other way they can hurt her then please enlighten me."

"Accepted." Toth says.

"The dread wolf is coming, I can feel it." Urthemiel sings with some excitement.

"He is not particularly powerful at all." Dumat says flatly. "But very intelligent. His name of the trickster is not ill earned."

"Nobody outplans me." Razikale says, perhaps a touch offended.

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_Author's Note: I hope you liked the chapter. Feedback and criticism welcomed. Next update should hopefully be soon. I will be updating my other story soon as well. I just don't want to screw up the conclusion to that one. Hoping to get that up by monday._

_To my reviewers:_

_Nightwish11606: Thanks for the review! You might well have a point about Leliana. We'll wait and see, won't we? :)_

_interesting2125: Thanks! I thought that including several gods would hopefully make a good, epic tale. I just hope I don't drop the ball too soon. Also, special thanks for +60 approval. It made me happy :P_


	10. Power

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: My apologies on the delay but I've been pretty busy. Nonetheless, let's move on with the story. A couple of things to say first. One, if you're looking for some great stories that feature Fen'harel go check out interesting2125's stuff if you haven't already. You will not be disappointed. (Yes, the dread wolf appears in this chapter. I kind of gave that away, didn't I?). The other thing is a minor violence warning. Also, please tell me when I overstep the T-rated boundary, if I do. Anyway, this has gone on long enough. I hope you enjoy the chapter._

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Chapter 10 – Power

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It has been said that temptation lies in the forbidden. That is also where power is often found. Power is an interesting thing that is worth looking at. It is ironic that those who desire it most are the least worthy to wield it. They say power corrupts and that absolute power corrupts absolutely. But they likely weren't referencing god level powers. That usually ends up giving you two outcomes. There are those who play the devil and those who play the angel. Both are dull and flat. It is the potential of a third result which sparks interest. There are always those who become motivated by a single purpose, playing angel, devil and everything in between to achieve it. To perform the Maker's service is one such service.

This is likely what Father Roysten hoped to get and likely what the old gods may have wished to get. What they really got, however, is a matter of opinion.

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The raven flitted along the tree branch, shaking its wings in an agitated manner. It quirked its head at the awkward group of travellers walking through the shade of its tree. It followed their progress with some interest, hopping from branch to branch. It snapped violently at any denizens of the canopy that unintentionally inhibited its progress. Eventually tiring of the annoyances it took to the air. It flew lazily, with a watchful eye on the travellers who were nearing a clearing after having spent the entire day striding through narrow forest roads.

It had been an uneventful day for them, which was rare. They had encountered no darkspawn which meant they were making remarkably good distance. They chose to settle themselves in the clearing for a time as lunch was on their minds. The raven noticed the isolated woman who sat away from the camp. It snapped pointlessly at the air as though annoyed before settling itself on another tree. It gave a dismissive look to another bird. Some pecking and scratching later, it found itself the lone resident of the branch. It relaxed and settled into its lonely vigil.

They went about business as usual for the most part. Catching small animals to cook, eating and discussing the general state of affairs and expressing shock and surprise at Loghain's death. The only worthy of note was how the woman with golden eyes was being treated as a social pariah. The raven was amused by how fitting that was, all things considered. It was only disturbed a fair bit later when it sensed a worryingly large amount of power. It unconsciously fluttered its wings as the source drew closer. The bird couldn't see anything but it could sense the woman. It realized what was happening and calmed itself. The coming show would, at the very least, be amusing.

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Alisa ate the rabbit meat mechanically. She was too busy thinking about how things had become so unusual. The leaves in the trees always rustled softly in the wind, the light always cast cool shadows as it leaked through the treetops. She just hadn't had much time to consider it. Always too worried about darkspawn everywhere. Rushing every rest stop so as not to be ambushed, always being excessively careful. It had become increasingly difficult to even find animals to kill; they had all been scared away by the darkspawn that lurked in the woods. And now they seemed to be gone. The monstrosities that had been plaguing that land but days ago seemed to have vanished. There had been no reports and no sightings. This worried the warden immensely. She was afraid of some massive attack somewhere.

Her train of thought screeched to a halt as she notice something unusual in the air. It looked like something was folding onto itself. Alisa abandoned her food and got to her feet slowly. She stared curiously as she noticed several disturbances around her companions. She noticed the patterns a few seconds too late to react properly. By then, there were unusual voids in the space around them and chains snaked through the portals. The black bonds wrapped themselves around her legs and arms as she squeezed her eyes shut in pain. When the warden's vision cleared, she noticed her friends in a very similar state to her own. The chains grated against her skin, causing a burning sensation that made her sight fogged again. The memories hurt too, all the little losses she had suffered and all the big ones. She knew it was magic and she fought valiantly but the power echoing from the restraints seemed to simply smash her resistance apart with no effort. At least she could see clearly again.

Alisa watched with growing horror as a woman in black armour walked into the clearing. The first problem was that it looked as though she had come from nowhere. The bigger problem was that she looked a lot like Leliana. Maybe the warden had guessed by then that it was in fact the bard. Perhaps, she simply didn't want to believe it. The long red hair blew in the light wind like liquid fire. She had a small satisfied smile on her face. Alisa saw their assailant saunter up to her casually. She locked eyes and the blue colour hit her like a mace. She knew those were Leliana's eyes, except they used to be warmer. The warden could not make head or tail of the situation at this point.

"Hello Alisa." The bard said in her usual accent. "Miss me?"

"Leliana... what..." The warden managed to groan.

"You don't look so good." The bard said in a concerned voice as a dagger dug into Alisa's thigh.

The warden cried out more in shock than in pain. It took a moment to sink in. Leliana had stabbed her. And since when had she looked so different. Where had she gotten the powers she was using? By this time Alisa had assumed that the binding chains were the bard's doing. There were too many questions and not an answer in sight. A ball of flame appeared in Leliana's hand. Another surprise. It wasn't the red fire most people are used to seeing. It was closer to an unusual blue that was almost colourless. Very much akin to the colour at the core of a candle flame and not at the tip. The warden flinched as the bard moved to slam the flame into her face. It stopped a hair's breadth away from causing serious damage. Despite the pain, she was acutely aware of the searing heat. Sweat poured down her face as she could see some of stray hairs singing. Leliana snuffed out the flame a moment later and violently stuck a dagger into the warden's gut. Alisa might have cried but she forced herself not too. Besides, the situation was unusual enough that she couldn't think straight at all.

"You deserved that." The bard muttered as she tugged the blade out and walked towards Morrigan.

By now, the warden's mind had gone into panic mode. She noticed that by some miracle the witch had managed to conjure a fireball. She gasped in surprise as it struck Leliana. The bard however simply walked on with an amused laugh, seemingly unharmed. Morrigan would have hesitated to admit it but she had liked that laugh at one point. Now however, it was in a very different light. The dagger found Morrigan's stomach, inciting a scream.

"This is the kind of power you always wanted, isn't it Morrigan?" Leliana whispered. "Jealous?"

Leliana turned away again, leaving the witch with a gaping wound. The bard looked straight at Alisa.

"If you're wondering where I got this power from, you should turn to the tevinter gods." She said with a blank face. "The blight being ended was part of the deal, you see. Basically, I did your job for you and now I have other matters to attend to."

Alisa was having trouble even considering the possibility that Leliana would consort with the old gods, let alone receive powers from them. But if she was to be believed, then the blight was over. The bard gave Zevran a sharp look as one of the chains holding his right arm snapped back wildly. The warden could hear the bone crack. The bard gave a dismissive wave as the chains strained in unusual directions, spraining various body parts and tearing ligaments before the bonds finally dissipated. The warden gave into unconsciousness.

The bard walked away from the clearing as Razikale's voice spoke to her.

"You loved Alisa Surana, didn't you?"

A long pause. "Yes."

"Do you still love her?"

"I owe you no answers."

"Your reaction has already given me your answer."

"What if I said yes?"

"Tread carefully, Leliana. After all, you are our champion."

"I am not!"

"Believe what you will."

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The raven was now both worried and annoyed. It surveyed the scene of what could best be described as close to a slaughter. They would live, more or less. They were extremely close to the circle tower anyway. But all of them were unconscious. Disposed of in a very easy way. They hadn't been able to mount any real resistance. Then again, the raven doubted they even knew what was going on. It recognized the chains with certainty. And the flame, they were both unique. There was really only one source from where they could have come. It felt betrayed, after all the effort made it was simply being thrown aside.

Flemeth the shapeshifter flew into the sky. There was work to be done.

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"She didn't kill them." Zazikel says.

"We did not expect her to." Razikale says indignantly.

"Your emotional amplification is working to our favour so far but as you know it is a double edged sword." Dumat asserts.

"Indeed, if Alisa were to have an opportunity to truly reach out then we all know what Leliana would do." Urthemiel's harmonious voice echoes. "After all, she just admitted to us that she still loves the warden."

"Our problems would be solved if Alisa simply fell in love with someone else." Razikale replies.

"Who? The witch? That seems impossible you know." Toth laughs.

"No. But we shall wait and see." Razikale replies shortly.

"We have a guest." Andoral's grating voice speaks.

"I have sensed him." Dumat says calmly. "Let us ensure that his fears are realized."

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In the area that houses the old gods' cracking prison, a vast shadowy figure appears. It reforms itself to a more convenient shape. The large, shaggy, black wolf looks around with sharp eyes. Fen'harel eyes the prison gate with some concern. The jagged, glowing cracks are a serious matter. He walks forward elegantly, till he stands before the gate.

"Fen'harel. Such a pleasant surprise." A clear voice speaks from beyond the barrier.

The dread wolf recognizes the voice of Razikale. He knows that the cracks are growing. He is aware that the gate cannot be allowed to open. The only thing the trickster would like less than letting the elven gods free would be to let the tevinter gods free. He paws a crack lightly, expecting the worst. He is not disappointed as chains emerge from nowhere and wrap around his body, restraining and constricting. He begins to strain against them; they should be broken within the hour.

"You should know better." Toth laughs cruelly as the wolf's body begins to burn with an almost colourless flame. "With the gate cracking, we are far from powerless in our dimension. I hope this hurts."

It does cause some pain but Fen'harel does not care. His fears are realized.

"Run along." Dumat says imperiously. Even the dread wolf dislikes the sound. "What will you do? Free the gods you imprisoned? You must understand, that once I ascend everything shall end."

The trickster knows this well enough. He concentrates on freeing the annoying chains. He must decide a course of action.

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_Author's Note: I hope you liked the chapter. Feedback and criticism welcomed. And now that I've finished with 'All That is Gold', my updates can be focused here. So expect the next one reasonably soon._

_To my reviewers:_

_Nightwish11606: Glad you like the picture I tried to present of Leliana! We shall explore her views on all of this soon. Thanks for the review!_

_interesting2125: Thanks for the review! You shall see what role the dread wolf plays, by and by._

_To my reviewers (For the last chapter of All that is Gold):_

_Nightwish11606: Thanks a lot! I couldn't have killed Leli, I like her too much :P I hope you like this story and anything else I might have coming up._

_interesting2125: Thank you so much for all the feedback! I'm glad you liked my finale. As for the reunion, even I wasn't completely satisfied to tell you the truth. But after rewriting that part like ten times I sort of left it at what I got. Thanks a lot for pointing it out though, I'm considering rewriting that bit later when I feel inspired. The Andraste story will come around eventually. Till then, I hope you like this one! _


	11. Know Thy Enemy

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Well, here's the next installment. I hope you like it and do leave your thoughts :)_

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Chapter 11 – Know Thy Enemy

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Is it a crime to have a desire to see the future? Is it foolish if you attempt to correct mistakes you have not yet made? It does not matter if there are a million possible outcomes. Only one ever is. Everything else simply dissolves into worlds that will never be. If one outcome was to end everything and a piece of knowledge could correct it, it could never be truly called forbidden. When something is forbidden, it is either due to fear and jealousy or because it yields repercussions far worse than its rewards are good. Saving existence is the ultimate reward and no repercussion can be worse. Thus some things are never truly forbidden.

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The chantry had lapsed into an unusual mood since its inhabitants had returned from Archon Thalsian's temple. Father Roysten appeared fantastically pleased with how things had turned out. The others were convinced in Roysten's faith but merely afraid. The old man sat on his seat at the foot of Andraste's statue as he pondered things for the hundredth time. He watched as the others ate in silence. He was aware of their dissatisfaction with how things had turned out. He knew they would see it his way eventually. He looked up as Tiberius approached.

"Father, Brother Adrian hasn't returned yet. He has been gone two days. That is a bit longer than usual for purchasing supplies." He murmured.

"I'm sure he is fine child. If his absence persists we shall begin a search."

The doors to the chantry were shoved open as daylight poured through the doorway. The brightness framed Leliana's jet black armor in an unusually mystifying way. She walked in silently without a word and shut the double doors behind her. She walked quickly towards Father Roysten. Sister Bridget tried to say something but the bard brushed past her without a word. She stopped in front of the throne and gave the old man a contemptuous look.

"It is done." She said simply before beginning to turn away.

"Child, you have performed-" Roysten began before being cut off.

"Spare the lecture, Roysten. What do you want?" Leliana snapped.

"Nothing child. I merely wished to ask you what you intend to do next?" He replied patiently.

"I will need time. I shall see what changes occur in Ferelden now and with that I will make my decision." She said flatly before turning away and striding towards her room.

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Alisa's eyes fluttered open as she jerked up violently. She was rewarded with a harsh jolt of pain through her body. She groaned before falling back again. She noticed she was on a bed, at least it felt like one. The last thing she remembered was being attacked by Leliana. As soon as her vision cleared she noticed Alistair sitting by her bedside with a worried look on his face. The architecture told her that she must be in the circle tower. The mage's quarters were familiar and comforting.

"Thank god you're awake." Alistair breathed.

"What? How long…" The warden asked.

"Almost two days now." He said softly. "Did that really happen?"

Alisa nodded but said nothing. She didn't want to think about what they had just been through although the memories kept playing themselves over and over again in a sadistic loop. The warden couldn't see any of the others in the room.

"Is everyone alright?"

"Most of us woke up in a few hours." Alistair replied. "Zevran has a broken arm but otherwise you and Morrigan were the only people seriously injured. Morrigan isn't awake yet but she should be soon, I hope."

Alisa nodded as she lay back on the bed. She heard the door creak open as a young human mage with blonde hair and blue robes walked in. He smiled widely and walked quickly to the bedside.

"Alisa, you're awake." He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Lance, is that you?" The warden asked with surprise.

There was no real doubt in her mind though. The black eyes, slightly crooked nose, thin lips and oddly pale complexion didn't leave any real doubt. He had always been Alisa's closest friend in the circle tower. She missed those days. Pulling small pranks, studying magic together. Before any harrowings or blights… or old gods.

"I'll just go see one of the healers." Alistair said as he got up. "That bruise on my arm is aching like no tomorrow."

He marched out of the room, holding his right wrist tightly. Lance sat down at the bedside and gave the warden an awkward hug without touching her injuries.

"It's me alright." He said with a grin. "And you ran off without saying goodbye."

"Not like I had much choice. Being conscripted into the grey wardens and all." Alisa muttered. "I came back to the tower you know."

"Yes, you're the only reason the circle still exists. We owe you a great deal."

"I never saw you when I cleared out the tower." The warden got to the point. "I thought you were…"

"Just your luck to not run into me I suppose. Or some cruel trick of fate." He said theatrically. "It would take more than a few abominations and demons to get rid of me."

"What did you do? Throw books at them?" Alisa giggled, momentarily forgetting recent events. It was like being back in the past again.

"I resent that." He said with a scowl. "I happen to be a very accomplished mage. Just that I was never quite as good as you."

He then continued muttering for a few moments about being judged for reading a lot. Eventually he dragged himself back to the present.

"Now that we've had our reunion, will you tell me what happened to you?" He asked firmly. "You and that group of yours cleared out a tower full of abominations and demons and then you limp here in one hell of a state."

"I'd rather not talk about it." The warden said, diverting her gaze.

"That's what all your companions said. Is it that you don't trust me?"

"No Lance, I just… don't want to think about it right now." Alisa replied before suddenly changing the topic. "I… I know this is sudden but… you've read probably every book in the library. What can you tell me about the… tevinter gods?"

"Why the sudden interest?" He asked sharply.

"Just tell me. Please." The warden replied firmly.

"No." Lance replied shortly. "I'm your friend Alisa. Let me help you with this. You tell me what happened and I'll tell you what you want to know. Deal?"

Despite herself, the elven mage gave a small smile. Just like their old deals and arguments from way back when.

"It's not a very pleasant story." She muttered.

"I wasn't expecting it to be. I just want to help make sure it ends happily."

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Leliana leaned back in the chair, absentmindedly polishing one of her daggers. She sat alone in her room and she was perfectly happy that way. She didn't want or need any company at that time. She was mulling over the way things had gone. She hadn't been particularly happy about hurting her old companions but at least it had lessened the _fury _in her mind. She put that down to the old gods. She had never expected the deal to be fair or tilted towards her in any way. She had also realized that once Father Roysten had dragged her into the fade, there was no refusing the tevinter gods. They whispered in your mind and forced you to give in. The only thing she could have done was make the deal as safe as possible. Nonetheless, she felt their voices and presence grow more assertive as though their power was increasing.

Perhaps Razikale had given her too much knowledge or she had been underestimated. She suspected that the prison that housed them was weakening, it was the only explanation. It was also likely that she was the cause for that weakening. It was only a short logical extension to realize that, in the most likely case scenario, it was caused by the usage of her new powers. The bard intended to continue using them though, at least until she could find a valid solution. She wouldn't stop until she had dragged the prison to the brink of breaking. She had that much time to think up a way out of this.

And what of her companions, one of whom she had been so attracted to. That part of her mind was still clouded in anger and an intense desire to exact more vengeance. She did not relish the idea that she would have to hurt them again. Nonetheless, her thoughts had cleared only after the recent encounter. Maybe she could find another way, she hoped she could. She took comfort in knowing that there were some things that the old gods were still unaware of. They couldn't read minds while trapped in their prison, a useful limitation.

An idea struck her a while later. A terribly simple one but she doubted that it would work. Worth a shot though. She sank herself into the fade.

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"That's a lot to swallow." Lance said softly.

"I told you it was better if you never heard it." Alisa muttered. It did feel good to get it all off her chest though.

"But I'm glad I did hear it." He replied. "I just want to help you. Besides, I owe you for the number of times you helped me out of sticky situations."

"You mean when the other apprentices picked on you?"

"Well, yes." Lance muttered, somewhat embarrassed. "Also, I think there's one critical question that has to be asked. You like women?"

Alisa did laugh a little at that. She could usually trust Lance to make her feel better even at times like this.

"Maybe I do. You mind?" She teased, batting her eyelashes.

"No. Of course not." He said quickly, blushing a bit.

He then paused before continuing.

"The only reason I'm making jokes and changing the topic is because I don't know what to say." He admitted.

"None of us do, I think." The warden said somberly. "Do you think… Leliana told the truth about the old gods and the blight?"

Lance noticed that it took Alisa some effort to mention that name.

"I know this isn't what you want to hear, but she might be. It sort of… fits."

"What do you mean?"

"I may as well tell you about the tevinter gods then." He sighed. "Alright, lecture time."

Alisa nodded as her friend got himself started.

"Most of the legends and sources say they're just dragons. Incredibly powerful dragons, though. The chantry says they were responsible for first sin and that the Maker locked them away. They taught the archons blood magic and were responsible for the defiling of the golden city. But you know all this." Lance began. "The point in question whether killing an archdemon kills the god. If that is so, then at least four of them should be dead. Still, I don't think that would be the case."

"Why not?" The warden asked.

"Well, for one thing an archdemon is a lot weaker than the god it came from. They also aren't unique. While all the old gods are vastly different, all archdemons are nearly identical. I can't give you a concrete answer to this right now. There's too much disagreement between scholars and sources."

"Can you tell me about all of them?"

"I was getting to that. One other thing you should know is that the legends say that it is impossible to defeat any of the old gods, and there's a reason for each one."

He took a deep breath before starting.

"You have Lucasan, tevinter dragon god of the night. The embodiment of our fear of the dark, our fear of not being able to see clearly. Lucasan is said to be unbeatable because he can simply bring utter, impenetrable darkness upon areas. You can't fight if you can't see. It is also said that he can simply meld into the shadows, becoming effectively invisible till he chooses to act."

"Then there is Zazikel, tevinter dragon god of chaos. Representative of the disorder and madness that we mortals are capable of creating. Impossible to defeat because for one he is nigh immune to magic. You see, our magic is an ordered force with which we manipulate matter and energy. Magic simply rebels in Zazikel's presence. Also, he can turn the most organized armies into a mob of savages fighting each other to the death. Essentially, chaos."

"Andoral is the tevinter dragon god of chains. He represents our inhibitions and our inaction in times it is required. Andoral's chains make him unbeatable. Apart from causing complete immobilization, they tear into your flesh, mind and soul."

"Toth is the tevinter dragon god of fire. Representative of fury, rage and rash action. Toth's flames are said to be able to burn away anything. Forests, entire armies or even entire cities."

"Urthemiel is the tevinter dragon god of beauty. It isn't the pleasant sort of beauty though. He represents dangerous and entrancing beauty that distracts and clouds judgment. He can't be beaten because it is said that Urthemiel is so beautiful that no one can bring themselves to attack him."

"Razikale is the tevinter dragon god of mystery. She is the embodiment of our fear of the unknown. She is said to know every piece of magic that exists and has the capability to neuter all magic in an area except her own."

"And last, you have Dumat the tevinter dragon god of silence. He is simply the embodiment of absence and death. For one thing, he is the lord of the old gods. Not much is known but Dumat is unique because he has two 'voices'. He is telepathic like all the others. But he also has something the legends speak of as the voice of silence. They say that it echoes in the soul and that no mortal may hear Dumat's voice and live."

Alisa took a moment to process the information. "Thanks, you really have read everything." She said with a small smile. "But are you sure your judgments about them aren't a bit biased?"

"I wish they were, Alisa." He replied. "But the old gods truly are the embodiment of the darker side of people."

"You know Lance, Leliana appeared from nowhere, there were the strange chains, she was almost unharmed by magic and that fire…"

"That's why I said it fits." He said sadly.

"I wish I knew what was going on." Alisa said in a frustrated voice. "I wish I knew what was going to happen."

"You want to know the future?" Lance said tentatively.

"Don't tell me you're a prophet…"

"No." He said quickly. "But there is that tevinter statue in the basement. Maybe it could still…"

"Can you take me there?" The warden said immediately.

"You're hurt Alisa. You shouldn't be walking around."

"We don't have time." Alisa said. "Come on, please."

"Oh alright. I never could say no to you." Lance grumbled.

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Leliana appears before the old gods' prison. She observes the door. She cannot be sure but it seems that the cracks have intensified. She prepares herself but Lucasan's voice interrupts.

"Such a pleasure to see you back again, Leliana." The deep voice says. "You really should bow as a sign of respect."

"I will not." She replies firmly, trying to get control of herself.

"You were told to BOW!" Dumat's imperious command emerges.

Despite her efforts, the bard's knees buckle as she sinks into an unwilling prostration.

"Good girl." Andoral's voice grates. "Now you should leave."

Leliana gathers the energy to depart. She didn't think it was going to work anyway. She tries to ignore the old gods' amused and mocking laughs.

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Lance helped Alisa down to the basement, one arm around her shoulder. Getting the key had been easy enough when the warden requested it. At the elf's request, Lance hadn't told any of the warden's other companions. Despite the flood of bad news he was happy to see Alisa again. He thought he would never end up seeing her again since she was conscripted by the grey wardens. It pleased him that, despite her eventful journey, she hadn't changed much. Before long they found themselves before the statue as Lance placed his hand on the cool stone.

"I am Eleni Zinovia, once advisor and consort to Archon Valerius." The statue began.

"We know." Lance cut the statue off gently. He had spoken with it once before, for his research. Something about its tone seemed different this time.

"You seek knowledge of the approaching shadow." The statue said simply.

"Can you see the future?" Alisa asked flatly.

"I see some futures that may yet come to pass."

"Do you mean the future can be changed?" Lance questioned.

"And why should that be impossible. If Archon Valerius had heeded the warning, perhaps things would have been different."

"Can you tell us what the future holds?" The warden asked.

"Which future?"

"Damn it. You know which one." Lance snapped.

"I can show it to you, if you so desire."

"I want to see it." Alisa said firmly.

"Be warned, young mage. Consider one last time. You will not enjoy this."

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_Author's Note: Just to make a point, I intended to use the statue before with hunt came out. Although, that reaffirmed my hope that said statue can be used as a valid source of information. Anyway, I hope you liked the chapter. Feedback and criticism welcomed. Next update should be soon._

_To my reviewers:_

_Nightwish11606: Yeah, now that I think about it this does remind me of dark phoenix. Although, Leliana is considerably more awesome. Anyway, thanks for the review! I hope you enjoy where I'm going with this._


	12. Shattered Skies

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Here's the next installment for you. I'd like to throw out a general warning for this chapter, though. It isn't the most pleasant thing I've written if you get my drift. Regardless, I hope you enjoy it. And do leave your feedback, I'll be interested to hear it._

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Chapter 12 – Shattered Skies

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The end of existence. An amusing concept because it always arrives eventually. Death is only natural and the death of all life is eventual. It boils down to how long it can be delayed. And delaying it is what they sought.

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Lance stared somewhat worriedly at the tevinter statue as Alisa calmly ignored its warning without a second thought. Was he scared of the future? After what his old friend had told him, he could say with certainty that he was. A woman who could wield the power of the gods? It was not a comforting concept, especially when her intentions were unknown. He thought back to the raving priest Alisa had mentioned. He could see that a great deal of information was missing. Finding it would probably be a vital task. He looked at Alisa. Her stomach area and thigh were still bandaged. Whatever daggers had stabbed her had dug in far. And the nature of the wound made it quite clear how twisted those weapons were. And the warden's condition wasn't even the worst; the apostate witch with them had suffered a wound far worse. She would wake eventually but it would be a long time before any of them were back to normal.

And then there were the bruises on their arms and legs. The skin there had turned black as though it had been charred away. Based on that and the mental torture Alisa had described, Lance was fully willing to blame Andoral's chains. He would voice those concerns later, though. Despite all this it was impossible for him not to notice how beautiful Alisa was. Her dark hair had grown longer than she used to wear it at the tower. Now it fell a little below her shoulders. He had always admired her elven frame with the pointed ears. Still, this wasn't the time to voice any of that. What she needed now was a friend, not another factor in her, now complicated, love life.

"Alisa, are you sure you want to do this?" He asked, concerned.

"I have to. It's the only way we can find out what we need to know." She replied firmly.

Lance turned to the statue. "How many people can share this vision?" He inquired.

"With sufficient Lyrium, two will be possible." The statue responded.

"Lance-" Alisa began but the human mage simply shook his head.

"No. I'm coming with you, one way or another. Besides, I'm sure some company will do you good."

"Thanks." The elf said softly.

"Right, I'll go arrange for the Lyrium. You're hurt, sit down and don't move." He instructed while turning away.

"Yes, mother." Alisa muttered as she settled herself on a table.

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"What was she trying to do?" Zazikel questions.

"I'm not sure. But I doubt she'll try it again." Razikale replies.

"She now knows that we have a certain degree of control over her in this area." Andoral hisses.

"We must be wary. My suspicions are being confirmed." Dumat says.

"It is not as though she can stop us." Urthemiel sings. "She cannot help but to unwittingly release us."

"Also, I believe we need not worry about Alisa spilling her heart and changing Leliana's mind." Razikale says in a tone that usually accompanies a smirk.

"You mean that human she has met again?" Toth asks.

"It might just work in our favour." Lucasan replies.

"Alisa Surana is no longer a real concern." Dumat's voice echoes. "Our only true worries are Leliana, Fen'harel and Flemeth."

"Flemeth is obsolete." Zazikel laughs. "And she is lost; she does not know what to do. Leliana has a very limited spectrum of choices and the dread wolf is too weak."

"Pride often comes before a fall." Dumat commands. The others are wary.

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Alisa watched as Lance placed the Lyrium before the statue and got up again. Was she ready for this? She insisted that she was. The future worried her, things felt wrong. The thing weighing the most on her mind was Leliana. She had been so fond of her but she had been a complete idiot. She had simply been seeking refuge in blaming Morrigan for everything, she could see that now. Maybe she should have tried to be understanding. Maybe she should have shown some trust. She sighed sadly. At this stage, it was probably too late anyway. She felt empty when she thought of how the orlesian had changed. And the physical changes were the least of it. The cold in her eyes, the way she had used her power. The warden told herself that she probably deserved it anyway.

The whole chain had probably been sparked that fateful night. Alisa had however come to terms with one other thing. If this was all her fault, then she was going to fix it. One was not a grey warden if they simply wallowed in pity and cried in a corner. The first step in getting things done was to get some information. The warden wanted to know what the worst result of this entire affair could be. The statue would probably tell her that. After that? Honestly she wasn't sure. The one thing she could take comfort in was meeting Lance again. He had been one of her best friends during her time in the circle tower and he was proving himself to be one again. She would have been a fool to not notice the looks he had been giving her. He was probably holding himself back after hearing her story. She would think over that later.

"Well, what now?" Lance asked the statue.

It whispered instructions for a spell and ritual which he performed calmly. The statue was now glowing faintly.

"Place your hands upon me." It instructed.

Lance gave her a slightly nervous look. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"You don't have to come, Lance." Alisa said with a small smile. "But I have to do this."

Her friend swallowed. "In that case you're not doing it alone."

The warden placed her hand upon the statue as the world around them slowly dissolved away. She felt an unusual sensation, slightly akin to falling asleep. Then the world came back into focus. A very different scene.

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She didn't really feel anything so to say. She could tell from the view that she was floating in the air. She could hear and smell just fine but not feel. It took her a glance around to tell what kind of situation she was in. Lance hovered nearby, an ethereal ghost. She looked down to see she was much the same.

"Well, this is unusual." Lance muttered.

"You are merely witnessing what may come to pass." The statue's voice echoed from nowhere and everywhere. "None here will notice you, you may observe as you wish."

Alisa scanned the area. They were hovering over a vast plain of grass with the occasional rise of a small hillock. It was bounded on the edges by small patches of forest. She could see ruins in the distance, although it was difficult to make out what they were. But that was merely the landscape. The other sights were considerably more worrying. An army stood, opposite the ruins, at the other end of the plain. The army was split into what could best be seen as six divisions. It was a mixture of humans, elves and dwarves with several circle mages accompanying each contingent. It was then that she began to notice familiar figures. At the head of one of the divisions, she could notice Wynne, her staff at the ready. She saw Sten with another group, his blade grasped at the ready. Then Zevran, and Morrigan, and Alistair, and Oghren as well. Each of them stood alongside one of the groups. A more disturbing image was when she saw herself standing aside from all the others, staff clutched and face hardened.

"Wh- what is this?" She mumbled.

"Alisa, you should look up." Lance said in a very small voice.

The warden glanced to the skies and her mind blanked out for a second before being replaced with an intense feeling of worry. Dragons circled in the skies although that word did not do justice to the behemoths she was looking at. Power seemed to radiate from their presence and the carried a fetid, malign aura about them She counted precisely six in the air, things were beginning to make more sense.

"What are those ruins?" Alisa managed to ask, tearing her eyes away from the sky.

"It is an ancient temple built by Archon Thalsian. The legends say that one may contact the old gods from this place." The voice of Eleni Zinovia answered. "It is also said that it is from here that they find their release."

"Can you tell us what's going on?" Lance inquired.

"I can merely tell you what I see." The statue's voice responded. "The old gods have discovered freedom once more with the exception of Dumat. I believe you hope to desecrate the temple to delay or prevent the dragon lord from emerging."

"Why six armies? And why am I not with them?" Alisa continued questioning until the answer hit her.

"The others are a distraction for the gods." Lance voiced her thoughts bitterly. "It's so that you can get clear passage."

"Now, young mage, observe the shadow you fear." Eleni's voice said.

Alisa would have said something but a crystal clear female voice spoke. It came from one of the dragons.

"You were told to submit, yet you resist and attack us." It said in a mirth filled tone. "Now you shall be destroyed, but first you shall suffer. Go my brothers and show them our power. Do not be gentle."

"That would be Razikale I suppose." Lance said despondently as the armies began to move. "She's the only female among them.

The large plain did allow the different armies to manoeuvre comfortably. They advanced in careful formation so as to prevent any of the dragons from engaging more than one set at a time. Alisa saw her future self bolt in the direction of the ruins after the armies had made some distance. The old gods swooped towards the different armies, like hawks who had found their prey.

The group Zevran was with froze in its tracks as one of the beasts descended. Its scales were jet black and disturbingly deep. It was like staring into the abyss itself. And the eyes were small spheres of darkness nestled in a white that looked out of place. The talons were black as well and gently curved into sharp hooks. The tail swished aimlessly as the dragon spoke in its deep voice.

"The darkness shall consume you all."

A dome seemed to enclose the army. It didn't so much form as simply appear. It had a clearly defined boundary and looked like solid darkness. Shouts of disarray emerged from within the dome as the god rose into the sky once more.

"That's probably Lucasan." Lance said, unknowingly voicing his thoughts.

Alisa nodded unconsciously, hypnotised by the events unfolding before her. Lucasan turned gently in the air before diving into the dome which grew slightly to accommodate his vast form. A scream emerged from within, followed by several more.

"Don't look!" Lance yelled as the warden turned her head sharply to pay attention to something else. The young human never did say what was thrown from the dome, although anyone could guess.

Alistair's group had been interrupted as well by the most beautiful creature Alisa had ever laid eyes on. It was a dragon but so elegant. Every curve of its body was perfect as its long neck arched in an aristocratic manner. Its scales were pure, lovely white. The kind you could stare at forever. Its talons were a dull grey which contrasted well with the bright body. Its eyes were green, filled with warmth and mirth. Its tail was coiled as it laughed in a musical voice.

"Do you admire me? How flattering." It sang.

Alisa felt she should never look away and the army before the dragon behaved in much the same way. They stared stupidly at the great beast; several men had dropped their weapons. Even Alistair looked into the green eyes, enthralled.

"Look away from the form of Urthemiel if you desire to see more." Eleni's voice seemed to snap them from their trance.

The warden let out a small yelp as Urthemiel bent down and grasped one of the soldiers between his teeth. The crunch that followed was a sickening sound, a brutal contrast to the beautiful dragon.

"Who will offer themselves to my glorious form next?" Urthemiel's celeste tones threatened to draw Alisa's eyes back to the hypnotising creature.

"Alisa, we need to leave. This is... horrible." Lance murmured.

"No." The warden managed although the offer to leave was tempting. "I need to see this through." Her future self had almost crossed half the distance.

"You were once Alisa Surana's companion." The god of beauty sang. "Come, embrace me."

The dragon's head sank low once more. Alistair was still unable to move, staring blankly into those green eyes. Alisa and Lance tore their gazes away but the following sound left little to the imagination.

Wynne's contingent was faced by something the warden could have sworn was impossible. The dragon's scales changed their colour, sometimes at blinding speed and sometimes at a slow and languorous pace. Every colour imaginable showed itself and the dragon's eyes switched their colour as well although the two eyes were never the same. The talons and spines changed their shape, mutating from blunt to sharp to elegant to cruelly hooked. The beast roared; its voice altering pitch rapidly. From high and squeaky to deep and menacing. Alisa saw Wynne fire a blaze of lightning which glanced harmlessly off the dragon. The arrows bounced away just as easily as the magic. The god merely laughed.

"Madness is all you deserve and all you shall have. Take her."

A change came over the army, within seconds they had dissolved in murderous infighting as several soldiers grabbed the old circle mage roughly and began to rain blows until she could barely move. Light burst forth as the spirit took control of Wynne's body. It was gone in a second though, and Wynne was herself, injured on the ground.

"Magic detests my presence." The dragon said in its odd voice. "Your spirit is nothing but. Bring her forth, make her kiss my talons and bow before me."

The soldiers grasped the old mage and dragged her across the ground; her magic was next to useless. She would begin a spell and it would fizzle away slowly. The rest of the army had nearly destroyed itself completely.

"Zazikel." Lance said softly as Wynne's head was forced to the dragon's claws. The claw it touched suddenly grew brutally sharp and snapped upwards. It was something Alisa would never forget; she diverted her gaze a little too late.

The army Oghren was travelling with was already face to face with one of the gods. Its scales were deep red; its eyes seemed to literally burn. The scales glistened as rage seemed to ooze from the beast. It opened its mouth to speak in a voice that held fury. Alisa could see flames raging in its open maw.

"You forgot us and now you choose to fight us." The beast roared. "You will be cleansed in flame."

"Toth." Alisa said in a small voice as flames spewed from its mouth. The same unusual fire that was almost colourless and faintly blue.

The strange thing that happened was that the flames took shape upon the ground. They slowly morphed into humanoid shapes before leaping upon the unsuspecting soldiers. Oghren swung his axe wildly through one of the. He let out a pained grunt as he dropped the weapon, which was already mostly melted. Several of the fire beings grasped him, their hands melting through his armour in seconds. Toth laughed as one of the beings placed its hand upon the dwarf's face and pressed.

Sten the qunari advanced at the head of his army, his eyes betraying not a hint of fear. He broke into a charge towards the being in front of him. The god's scales were a dull steely grey, its talons and spines shaped more cruelly than there are words to describe. The eyes betrayed merciless enjoyment in their stormy colour. Its voice was cold and grating.

"So brave." It mocked. "Are you sure you have no... inhibitions?"

Chains burst forth from several voids in the air as they tied the soldiers down. The qunari was grasped by his arms and legs, completely immobilized. Alisa recognized Andoral from Lance's descriptions. And yet he had been unable to convey this god's cruelty. It took a moment for the pair of them to realize why Andoral had begun to laugh. The chains holding Sten were pulling back, little by little uniformly. It only struck her when she heard a crack. The warden never thought she would hear him scream in pain and he resisted the urge for a long time. Eventually, when his limbs were in ridiculous positions, the shouts came.

"Yes, scream." Andoral laughed. "It makes it so much more enjoyable. You shall all be punished for your actions."

Alisa noted that her future self was almost at the ruins and surprisingly the force that Morrigan was moving with had made it far. The clear voice echoed from the clouds again.

"This day we strike down defiance and resistance." It called. "You shall break. And then you shall die."

A dragon crashed upon the ground releasing violent shockwaves. Its scales were a deep iridescent purple with deep blue orbs for eyes. Otherwise it looked normal except that it felt... unreadable.

"That must be Razikale." Lance gasped.

Alisa saw Morrigan move her staff but nothing happened. The other mages in the group were equally helpless. The witch simply charged the dragon, wielding her staff like a blade. The warden's heart lurched as magic snatched Morrigan into the air, trapping her in a crushing prison. Razikale laughed gleefully as she trapped the rest of the force.

"I wonder how it feels to be burnt, frozen and electrocuted simultaneously. Do tell me if you survive it." The clear voice said.

"Alisa, the other you made it." Lance muttered, betraying a nauseous voice.

The drifted away from the carnage till they floated before a temple entrance surrounded by dragon statues. The area throbbed with energy. Alisa's future self walked slowly towards the entrance raising her staff.

"Is it that easy to fool the gods?" Alisa managed to ask, swallowing her emotions.

"Who is the fool?" The tevinter statue's voice floated from nowhere.

The warden gasped as Leliana emerged from the temple entrance, looking exactly as she had when she had attacked them. Her future self wasted no time, launching a brutal magical assault that caused the bard to drop her daggers but caused no other harm. The orlesian replied with magic of her own as they closed the distance between them. Leliana knocked the staff from the warden's hand before pinning her against a wall.

"It doesn't have to be this way." Her future self begged. "Make the right choice, Leliana. Please."

Something flickered for a moment across the bard's face. For a moment she spoke in her usual voice.

"My choices are no longer truly my own. Forgive me." She said sadly before slamming Alisa against a rock. Lance and the warden watched the two struggle for a while until the magical tension in the air suddenly seemed to implode. Her future self gasped and gave up the struggle, allowing Leliana to pin her against the wall. The orlesian took no further action.

From above the temple, a beast emerged that dwarfed even the other gods. Its sheer size made Alisa and Lance cry out. It wasn't so much the shape of a dragon as it was the absence of the same shape. It was like a void with form, moving emptiness with glowing white eyes. A single word echoed across the field and the world. It tore through ears, minds and souls. Even as a mere observer of future events, the warden felt as though her soul was being ripped into a million strands and burnt. It hurt more than anything she had experienced and in a way she could not describe. The vision began to fade as she screamed. The voice was far too majestic, far too terrible and something that did not belong in the world.

"OBEY."

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Alisa found herself bunched up on the floor of the circle repository. It took her a moment to realize that she was sobbing.

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_Author's Note: Well, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Do leave your feedback. Oh, and tell me if the Alisa-future Alisa thing is written in a confusing way. If it is, I'll probably rewrite that section. Next update should be soon._

_To my reviewers:_

_Nightwish11606: Thanks so much! I might have a few surprises in store for you yet ;) _


	13. Clarity

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Here's the next installment. I hope you enjoy it. Do leave me your feedback :)_

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Chapter 13 – Clarity

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It would not do to betray the end of this fascinating chain of events, not that anyone knows the outcome. Fate has rolled its dice and we wait with baited breath to see the result. Some though, see a little more than others. One thing in particular. Very plain compared to some of the factors present but deeply misjudged. Only one person really knows and perhaps one other is subconsciously aware of it. Some will see it is natural and wonder why they didn't guess it sooner. Some will be left baffled, others angered. Regardless, we can all take comfort in the fact that there are some things the old gods _never_ understood.

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Fen'harel watches what has unfolded in the world of the mortals. He understands perfectly. He also realizes how dire the predicament is. Still, he will not consider some alternatives; he is not yet willing to open some doors. And yet, a solution must be found. He is confident that he can manipulate his way around the old gods. He senses a presence trying to reach out to him, barely managing. He knows the aura of the dragon lord and he is wary. Yet he accepts the invitation, it is the only way forward.

It is a transcended state, perhaps a little above the fade. More a meeting of minds, although his position in the spirit world remains unchanged. The presence surrounds him now; it is decidedly uncomfortable. Like a dream within a dream. A nightmare for the bringer of nightmares. The irony is not lost on the dread wolf.

"It appears you now understand what has transpired." The voice of silence addresses him from everywhere. "Are you afraid to face her?"

Fear is most certainly not the correct word. Caution is a better one. Fen'harel understands that a battle with the woman would be too great a risk.

"Perhaps I wish to offer my assistance." The dread wolf's growl is deep.

Dumat laughs. It is disconcerting.

"Trusting you is one mistake we shall not make."

"You may end up tricked back into your prison." Fen'harel responds.

"Perform your manipulations as you desire." The dragon lord says nonchalantly. "We need not run circles with you when we can simply blaze through. One needn't deal with machinations if one has sufficient power."

"Clearly you are not all powerful." The dread wolf treads carefully.

"You refer to our prison."

"Perhaps I refer to the Maker."

"The Maker is gone." Dumat says, rage is palpable in his voice. Fen'harel does not miss it.

"That statement implies he is real." The dread wolf moves a little quicker. He desires the knowledge.

"But of course." The old god laughs. "But as I said, gone. Forever. Perhaps to another dimension, a new world. Who can say?"

"What if he were to return?"

"He will not." The strength of the voice grows, it is oppressive now. "We are the gods of this world now. We shall destroy and then we shall remake as we desire."

It seems to literally push against Fen'harel's body now, he attempts to resist. He realizes that he must hear out the dragon lord. The voice is loud now but calm.

"As we crush, we shall laugh. Just as we laughed when Arlathan was crushed, just as we laughed when you were too weak to interfere, just as we laughed when Andraste burnt. But this time, we shall be there in person."

"Gods are locked away for a reason." The dread wolf growls, refusing to betray his discomfort. "They are not needed."

Andoral's voice joins Dumat's.

"Perhaps you can say that when you lick our feet like the dog you are. All shall kneel before us. Do remember, mortals brought this upon themselves."

The oppressive presence departs. The dread wolf gathers himself. He is most definitely alone. He observes for a while, in complete silence. He decides to take one step, perhaps it will spark the process.

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She stands in a forest and looks around. Alisa isn't sure why she is here. She can hear another woman panting; it seems that someone is running. She hears a growl, reminiscent of a wolf's. The figures come into sight; a large black wolf is chasing Leliana. She turns and unleashes magic upon it, the wolf responds with magic of its own. The two bolts collide in a fantastic blast of colour. The warden does not know what she should do. The bard slashes at the wolf with her twisted black daggers and the creature falls back a bit.

The wolf leaps upon her and magic meets magic once more as daggers and claws collide. The wolf bites Leliana's leg hard, the armour cracks and begins to give way as drops of blood drip to the ground through the beast's mouth. The bard's daggers strike several times into the shaggy fur as the blood of the wolf joins her own, melding into a single pool. The wolf jumps, pinning her to the ground as she tries to force a dagger to its throat. The wolf stops it with its paws but its situation is precarious. It could be dead in an instant. The beast locks eyes with her; they are hard but clearly requesting assistance.

Alisa is torn. Should she attack the bard or appeal, spill her heart and beg forgiveness? She pauses for a moment and the wolf's paws are forced aside as the dagger punctures its throat. Leliana tosses the carcass aside as she dusts herself off. She turns and locks eyes with Alisa but they are the wretched eyes of Dumat, the dragon lord. Merciless and glowing white. She throws the dagger and it tears through the warden's heart as she collapses, life ebbing away. The dead wolf walks up to her and speaks.

"Make your choice while there is still time. Your hesitation could cost the world." It growls as she jerks awake.

She is in a bed in the circle tower once more. Lance tells her that she fainted again in the repository. She calls her companions together to speak with them. This dream though, she decides to keep to herself. At least for the time being.

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Leliana walked towards Father Roysten's room in a relaxed manner. She had been thinking about what she had learned. Apparently, the old gods could control her near their prison, at least to a certain extent. That presented several rather obvious problems. None of which she had the solution to at that time. She found her mind drifting unconsciously back to her own companions. What followed was the usual mixed urge to slaughter them and embrace them. She sighed, whatever they had done to her was effective. She noticed she had reached the end of the hallway. It surprised her since her mind rarely wandered since the... change.

She pushed open the door without knocking. She was still dressed in her black armour; she hadn't felt like removing it. It was surprisingly comfortable for what it was. Roysten looked up from his desk, surprise etched across his features. The bard scanned the bookshelves, this time she could make them all out. Written in the old tevinter tongue. Her lips quirked upwards when she noticed the subjects, things were becoming clearer already. She walked up and sat down in the bed giving the old man an expectant glance.

"Yes child?" He asked. It annoyed her significantly when he addressed her that way.

"I just think it's about time you told me something." She said plainly. "Who are you, really? You're not just some chantry priest who happens to know about the old gods."

He gave her a startled look but said nothing. His hand seemed to jitter towards his staff which lay a short distance away.

"You can tell me or I can rip it from your mind. Your choice." Leliana smirked.

"Very well." He sighed in defeat. He could not risk crossing her at this time, she was much too powerful. "I originally came from the tevinter imperium at a much younger age. I was one of the most accomplished mages there. But I grew disillusioned with their beliefs in the old gods and I began to tilt towards the Maker. So I did what I had to, I fled to Ferelden. But not before stealing several ancient and extremely valuable manuscripts. No one was allowed to touch them, let alone attempt to translate them. So I worked in peace here, becoming a chantry priest to satisfy my desire to serve the true god. Eventually, I began my own chantry here when I saw the rampant corruption among many of the priests. I gathered followers slowly, only a few and only the truly faithful. I finished my translations and was armed with knowledge I did not know how to use. And then I had a vision of the future, of you and what I had to do. Does this satisfy you?"

"More or less." Said the bard flatly. "You are doing this in service of a god, yes?"

"But of course. We both serve the Maker, do we not? We work for his glory."

Leliana got up and turned to leave. "You are certainly serving gods. The question is, which ones." She said coolly before departing, shutting the door silently behind her.

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Alisa was staring at the floor. She had finished describing the vision to her companions. It was even more upsetting to live it again. And to look each of them in the eye and tell them how they died? It was trying in the least but Lance was helping her along. The looks on their faces were mixed but largely nervous. It had been made worse when Irving had assured them that the statue could, in fact, grant true visions if it chose.

"So... the world is going to end?" Alistair ventured.

"The statue said that was one possibility." Lance replied, laying a comforting hand on Alisa's shoulder.

"Well, at least we're back where we started." The templar sighed as he leaned back in his chair.

They had been given a small private room where they could discuss their next step. The warden had ensured that everyone was there, Morrigan included. She had woken only recently and her wound was fairly severe but she seemed alright on the whole. Lance had to be there because he was the only one who had shared her vision. Alisa was grateful that he had experienced it with her. She was afraid everyone would think her insane otherwise. Introductions hadn't taken long.

"Where do we go from here?" Wynne threw out the question on everyone's mind.

Alisa bit her lip as she thought for a moment. "Leliana is the centrepiece here; that much I'm sure of. I think it's also safe to assume she's had some sort of interaction with the old gods."

"That doesn't sound like something Leliana would do." Alistair mentioned.

"I know but..." The warden began but paused.

"Do you think that night's incident affected her so much?" Zevran asked.

"I'm not sure and... it doesn't matter. We have to find a way out of this." Alisa said firmly.

"You need to deal with her somehow and I really don't think you can fight her." Lance said flatly.

"Child, have you considered appealing to her better nature." Wynne offered.

"What if she doesn't listen? What if she attacks us?" The warden asked nervously.

"Then kill her." Sten said plainly.

"That's just it; she isn't so easy to kill now. And where will we find her?" Lance countered.

"We need more information." Alisa said in a frustrated manner.

They sat and spoke in a similar manner for several hours, each path leading them back to the start. They just didn't have enough to complete the jigsaw nor did they have a place to acquire the rest of it. A templar poked his head in through the doorway some time after that.

"Pardon me warden but someone is here to see you and he won't take no for an answer." He said before ushering in the visitor.

He was a startlingly pale man with short hair. He was wearing dirty, torn chantry robes and his eyes betrayed extreme exhaustion. It was clear he had been travelling for a long time; he looked ready to collapse. He swayed slightly as he raised his head. He looked straight at Alisa.

"Warden, my name is Adrian. I bear news of your old companion, Leliana."

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Leliana was pacing her room aimlessly. There was nothing to do. She didn't particularly want to sleep, that only brought dreams of the old gods. Instead she thought as she looked around her barely furnished room. She settled herself on the lone chair; she needed to choose a course for herself. She considered going back to see her old companions again. How she longed to put her arms around Alisa's neck... and choke the life out of her. That was the anger talking. At least she hoped it was. She wanted to stab Morrigan straight through the heart, or maybe torture her a bit first. She shook the thoughts away. She was worried that they were becoming more and more frequent. She could feel herself growing increasingly inclined to what the old gods wanted her to do.

A while later she experienced a rare moment. Since her change there had been a few times when she had reverted almost completely to normalcy, the same old emotions and thoughts. She never remembered them later and the time gaps had occasionally puzzled her. Her head was clear now, she thought over everything that had happened. She slammed her fist into the dressing table mirror as it shattered. The armour protected her from ay cuts. _It wasn't fair._ She slammed her fist against the wall in frustration as she tugged violently at the armour. She knew the moment wouldn't last long. Maybe she should just kill herself and save everyone a lot of trouble. She grasped one of the larger glass pieces and gripped it in her hand, undecided.

"Did you really think a deal with us would be_ fair_?" Razikale whispers in her mind.

The moment passes and the glass piece tumbles from her hand, shattering as it hits the ground. She had reverted, even more so if that were possible.

"Ferelden should experience a trial by fire, do you not agree?" Dumat communicates plainly. "We shall see who is truly loyal to your Maker, won't we. Tear the veil apart, you know you want to."

A million different thoughts rushed through her head for several minutes after that. She reached out towards the fade.

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_Author's Note: Well, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Feedback and criticism welcome. Next update should be soon._

_To my reviewers:_

_Nightwish11606: Thanks a lot! Hope you like what's coming._

_interesting2125: Thanks for the review! Her way out, hmm, we'll see ;) Also, you're very welcome. _


	14. Those Many Years Ago

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Well, a rather short addition this time but it isn't really part of the linear storyline. You'll see what I mean. If this chapter is a bit confusing, the stuff here will get cleared up over time. This is also where I start pretty much changing a lot of the DA lore, or tweaking :P _

_Anyway, I hope you enjoy it and do leave your thoughts._

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Chapter 14 – Those Many Years Ago

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The elven gods plummet from the sky and crash upon the ground. Dumat roars in rage and swoops down after them, the other dragons following in his wake. They land hard upon the ground as trees splinter and the earth cracks and splits. Animals and birds flee from the forests in fear as the god of silence slowly begins to stride forward.

The elven gods are surprised. The expression is clear upon the face of Elgar'nan, god of vengeance and the All-Father. They had barely ever had relation with the dragons and now this attack. To add to his surprise is Dumat. Elgar'nan does not recognize him for a brief period. The majestic form of the old god is gone. Now it is barely different from a dragon shaped void with glowing white eyes. The creators tense and their forms shift slightly, ready to defend themselves should the need arise. The All-Father prepares to speak but Dumat merely takes another step forward, the other dragons circle around. Their muscles tense as they prepare themselves. Mythal the protector can read Dumat's eyes. They call for the elven gods to fall back, retreat and in doing so communicate their inferiority. She relays this to the others. They do not wish to back down, the dragons shall be faced.

Rage overcomes the god of silence as he gazes upon the wretched beings before him. They are so similar to the old gods but it pains Dumat to admit any similarity to these... _things_. The Maker had made them and they had been his greatest creations, his favourite children. But then father had made these pathetic creatures. They did not even know of the Maker's existence, let alone acknowledge him. And yet they had similar powers to the old gods. To the dragon lord, this is unacceptable. The old gods are the greatest of the Maker's children and he intends to prove it. He is _jealous_. Father shall see that these... other creations are flawed. Dumat roars once more and lets loose a fantastic volley of magic. A hundred black spears form in the air and rain down upon the elven gods.

The creators retaliate and lash out to stop the spears. They scatter as the remnants of the dragon's assault explode upon the ground around them. Their forms change a bit again, now they are fully prepared for a battle. The old gods unleash their assault and magic meets magic as the air hums in the wake of the titanic clash. Magic arrows fly from the mystic bows of Andruil and Falon'din as they scar the scaly hides of the dragons and their blood drips upon the earth. Dumat advances as the arrows merely glance off his body. His shadowy feet strike the ground as he advances relentlessly. Elgar'nan and Mythal assault him with magic to little avail. The ground trembles with every step. The creators feel the agonizing screams of the forest as Dumat's aura envelopes the area. He lets loose another barrage which is not completely stopped. The magic burns at the bodies of the elven gods as they heal themselves hastily.

The Halla hear the pained cry of their mistress Ghilan'nain as a large herd rushes from the forest. They ignore the goddess' plea; their only desire is to aid her. Magic bursts from the god of silence as the herd is atomised. He continues to advance, unperturbed. Ghilan'nain sheds a single tear at the loss. Magic crackles through the air without a pause. The forests for miles around are burning. And with them burn a thousand lives as the magical backlash begins to claim victims among the innocent creatures of the land. Lucasan vanishes into the shadows as Andoral's chains burst from nowhere. All mercy is gone from the old gods' eyes, all warmth has vanished.

Andruil is the goddess of the hunt; she feels Lucasan and keeps the god of darkness away. Fen'harel tears the chains apart as his magic forces Andoral's voids closed. Sylaise protects him from Toth's searing flames as Dumat unleashes another massive assault. Elgar'nan and Mithal are barely able to hold as more and more of their energy is expended on healing wounds. The dread wolf leaps at Dumat, his form growing to terrifying proportions as he attempts to rip the dragon's throat. The god of silence simply batters him aside effortlessly and continues his ponderous march.

The elven gods rally themselves after falling a distance back. They focus their magic; a single titanic blast strikes Dumat. He lets out a roar of anger as he strides out from the smoke, seemingly unharmed. The voice of silence begins to take shape for the first time as the world shudders. The creators are momentarily disoriented. Razikale's scream echoes through the land as she neuters magic for the first time. The creators struggle to break the god of mystery's hold. The god of silence attacks once more, the elven gods are forced to the ground and blown away. They shake of Razikale's magic and struggle to rise. Dumat stops, his wretched eyes staring maliciously.

"Rise, fight." He taunts. "You are nothing."

The elven gods continue to fight valiantly. Magic and arrows fly from behind as the dread wolf dashes among the old gods, lashing wherever he can. They focus their attacks instead on the others. The other dragons are wounded as they attempt to fight back. The creators are immune to the charms of Urthemiel and their magic can barely crack past the presence of Zazikel. The other dragons fall back and rally themselves but Dumat continues unhindered. Elgar'nan is beginning to understand. The dragon lord will not be stopped. Another assault forces them to the ground once more. The god of silence seems to have limitless strength. The All-Father looks upon his fellows and sees their conditions; most of their energy is now being used to heal their shattered bodies. He hears the voice of Mithal in his mind. With some reluctance he locks eyes with Dumat and nods. The dragon lord stops and laughs cruelly as the creators rise and leave, battered. The other old gods settle down to lick their wounds. The dragon lord bears no scars from the battle. He realizes how much strength he has gained from his fury.

He roars his triumph across the earth and the heavens. Father shall see that they are in fact his greatest creations. Yet now, Dumat is thinking further. He knows how powerful he is. Why should he be content to remain below the maker when he may stand at the same level or even above? The world should worship them and the god of silence decides that it will.

This incident leaves a strong impression on Fen'harel's mind. Not just his bleeding fellows or Dumat's wrath. But the acres and acres of burnt, scarred lands. The thousands of creatures left dead by the clash. The agony of the land that echoes through his mind. The amount of life lost for the ego of a god.

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_Author's Note: Well, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I haven't mentioned all the elven gods here or given their descriptions but I'm saving that for a bit. Feedback and criticism welcomed. Next update should be soon._

_To my reviewers:_

_Nightwish11606: To kill or not to kill, that is the question. Thanks for the review! We shall explore Leliana's character more as we continue on with the story._

_interesting2125: Thanks for the review! Fen'harel's motivations and intent are something we'll be coming back to often (it's such a fascinating piece of lore and quite enjoyable to write). As for the voice at the beginning of the chapters, don't worry too much about it. It'll be mentioned later but it isn't critical. However, since you mentioned it, it does have something to do with a character I have already mentioned in this story :P _


	15. Tearing the Veil

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Well, I managed to squeeze in another chapter. This weekend has been kind to my writing it seems. After that little interlude (sort of), it's back to the main storyline. There will be more chapters like the previous one eventually. Also, I'm pretty sure this will end up M-rated soon. I can tell that it's only a matter of time. On that note, violence warning. Anyway, hope you like the chapter and do leave your feedback._

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Chapter 15 – Tearing the Veil

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Before we proceed any further with this miraculous tale, a few things must be cleared. I must ensure you understand a few things. If you know them already, pardon the patronizing.

The veil is a thing of sanctity. It is sacred in its own way. It is the barrier that keeps the fade separate from the world of mortals. It should never be punctured, let alone broken lest the demons have almost free reign over Thedas. It is comforting to know that no ordinary beings have the ability or the energy to break such fundamental barriers. The old gods however are not normal and posses the magic needed. Their prison inhibits them from using it, to our luck. If they were, theoretically, released then they could smash the barrier. Very few things are certain in the world but it is definite where the demons would throw their lot. To side with immortal, nigh omnipotent gods or to side with people, whose lives are ephemeral as morning dew? A difficult question indeed.

The gods are called gods for a reason. So far, I have barely differentiated between them and particularly powerful demons. The gods are unique because one world is simply too small to contain their gargantuan proportions. I refer of course to their 'true' corporeal forms, not the ones they choose. Their majestic realities leak into the fade and into the real world. Their existence is shared between worlds. The Maker made them to be perfect, to have the aspects of both places. They usually prefer to not ascend to this state because it is... inconvenient in many ways. As a result they generally exist in our world as a projection of a spirit form in the fade. A complicated concept but an irrelevant one. It was merely an amusing fact.

It would also interest you to know that Dumat has been keeping something for everyone, his companions included. It is understandable though. The dragon lord would not wish to reveal his greatest trick. Not until it is time.

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Alisa was quiet; the others were watching her expectantly. Adrian had just finished the most fantastic tale they had ever heard. The warden didn't know whether to believe him or not. The painful thing was that he had explained everything perfectly. It all fit. Fit too well, almost.

"Alisa, he's probably telling the truth." Lance said as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"And why do you say that?" Morrigan voiced.

"He looks like a chantry brother. Even if he was playing dress up, how in the Maker's name does he know about archon Thalsian's temple? It's something of a legend and you would be hard pressed to find people, even in the circle tower, who knew anything about it." Lance shot back. "Tell me witch, he is no mage. How would he know the significance of a _pure lyrium circle_? We don't have the knowledge anymore on how to create them. How does he know exactly how Leliana looks now? How does he know when she separated from you? How..."

"Alright. I take your point." The witch said hastily.

"So, you say Leliana is serving the Maker?" Alistair questioned.

"That is what Father Roysten wanted her to do." Adrian replied softly.

"Why are you even here?" Alisa inquired in a none too gentle voice. "What do you gain?"

"Don't you see warden? Father Roysten's dream is to end the world. That way he believes he can live in paradise with the Maker. He's gone insane and he has the capacity to carry out his plans now."

"Is Leliana complying with him?" Wynne piped in.

"I'm not sure but when she emerged from her transformation she treated him with disdain."

"Figures." Zevran muttered.

"Where is she?" Alisa asked flatly.

"Probably at the chantry. I can tell you where it is." He muttered.

The warden considered for a moment. She then nodded.

"Let the circle take care of you." Her expression then softened a bit. "Thank you."

"Thank me after you save the world warden. If you succeed." He said as he left the room.

The warden and her group stayed quiet for a while. Everyone lost in their own thoughts. Alisa's mood had upped a minute bit though. At least she had the information she wanted. Now she had to act on it.

"Well, this is pleasant." Alistair chirped. "Now what?"

"I'm going to get Leliana back." Alisa said firmly as she got up. "And don't worry. If... if she can't be reasoned with... I know what to do."

"You are not going alone." Lance said with a grin.

"This isn't the time." The warden huffed as she began to move away but the blond mage grabbed her arm.

"No running away from me this time." He said with a wink. "Besides, what would you do without a cynical bookworm by your side? That, and I'm too involved with this now to just separate myself from it."

Alisa cracked a small smile. "Alright, fine. You're too persistent, it's unattractive."

Lance gave a small blush at the casual jibe. The warden looked around at the rest of the, her face all business again.

"The rest of you go to Denerim. Arl Eamon will be waiting; we're delayed as it is." She instructed. "No, no one else is coming. I started this and I'm going to settle it. Besides, the political system in Ferelden has to be fixed."

"That is not the real reason, is it?" Zevran said silently.

Alisa glanced at the floor.

"If Leliana is too strong, I can't have us all dying. I trust you people, if I don't come back then find a way." She said firmly, silencing the protests with her hands.

"I'm coming too." Morrigan spoke up.

The atmosphere tensed visibly. Everyone froze with their eyes locked on Alisa.

"No." She said.

"I'm not taking that answer." Morrigan shot back, rising to her feet. "'Tis more my fault than yours. I am coming."

The warden walked up right in front of the witch and drew herself up. The elf was still a good bit shorter than Morrigan but she had a frightening look in her eyes.

"I said no." She said through gritted teeth.

"Please." Morrigan said softly. "Give me one damned chance to set things right. One damned chance."

Alisa seemed ready to strike the witch but she relented a moment later. She looked away and headed towards the door to find Adrian.

"Fine." She muttered as she left the room.

Morrigan smiled a bit for the first time in days and days.

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Leliana was in a meditative state. She could feel reality and the dream world wash over her like waves at a seaside. It reminded her of Orlais. She could almost smell the salty water and the fresh breeze. She dragged herself back to the task at hand. She searched for the point where she was neither in reality nor quite in the fade. She felt it slip her by several times. She was getting frustrated. The bard let out a curse that was most unlike her.

It was like trying to hold the thinnest, most frictionless piece of metal in the world with pudgy fingers. It was ridiculously delicate. The orlesian almost laughed in annoyance. The gods tutted in her mind. She ignored them and tried to shut them out. Eventually she felt it and froze. Yes, her magic barely extended into the sanctimonious veil. She pumped slowly and carefully, ensuring none of the powerful energy spilt into the fade or reality.

Across the land of Ferelden dozens of imperceptible, miniscule globes of energy appeared. You couldn't have seen them anyway, they were in between worlds. Leliana considered what she was going to do. This was... extreme in its defiance of nature. She knew what had to be done however. Or rather, the old gods knew what they wanted her to do. She exhaled gently as the spheres grew slightly bigger. And then in rapid succession, they exploded. Like microscopic suns dying, their energy tore apart the greatest barrier ever conceived.

A few demonic entities tested the gap curiously. It was too good to be true. Leliana left her meditative state and settled on the bed to get a bit of rest. She was aware that the others in the chantry would probably get a harsh surprise upon seeing the revenants and arcane horrors that had emerged outside the gates. She managed a small giggle. They were only for protection. She began to drift to sleep.

The demons tentatively stepped into the world and looked around at the fresh life to quench, the energy to steal. They grinned sick grins and readied themselves to go wild. The voice of Dumat tore through their minds roughly. Determined looks covered their faces. Whether they liked it or not, they had a job now.

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"And so our victory comes." Zazikel laughs.

"Demons? Must we be so crude?" Urthemiel sighs.

"They are useful." Razikale mentions. "They will not be necessary forever. Only for the moment."

"Agreed. It worries me though that we have seen nothing of Flemeth." Toth speaks.

"The demons can keep an eye out." Lucasan replies.

"Indeed, she is... important." Andoral states.

"You know, Fen'harel could simply take form in their world and tear the demons apart. The voids would be closed in seconds." Urthemiel mutters.

"We may not understand his motivations or intentions, but I know his dislike of direct interference." Dumat responds. "He is an unusual god. He will have to die as soon as it is convenient."

"At least we can control Leliana's actions now." Zazikel says.

"Remember, our spurts of control are limited. We will be unable to influence another decision for some time now." Dumat cautions.

"We will not need to." Razikale says confidently.

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Marcus and Hector were tilling the field with grins on their faces. It was a beautiful day, bright but cool. The birds were singing and everyone in the small village was in a good mood. Since the darkspawn had begun retreating across the land, things had improved so much. For one thing, the two templars who helped the village were no longer half as tense as they had been. The protection of the small agrarian village had been nearly entirely their responsibility.

"Things are looking good ain't they?" Hector said happily as he wiped sweat from his brow.

"Right as rain my friend. With the trade opening completely again we might actually get some damned money." Marcus laughed.

"That and we don't have to worry bout gettin eaten by them darkspawn." He said chattily. "Wanna go grab a drink?"

"You damn well know the chantry here ain't into that kinda behaviour." Marcus condescended.

"I forgot that you became one of them religious freaks."

"Maker was doin a damn better job at keepin us safe than those two blokes back there."

The two of them shared a good laugh over that. Marcus saw Hector suddenly jerk and fly through the air. It was almost comical. He would have intensified his laughter if his friend hadn't been gutted an instant later on a revenant's blade. He whimpered, not understanding, and fell to his knees. He desperately uttered prayers as the revenant approached him, followed by a floating arcane horror.

"Bring him back to the village." The floating demon rasped. "Looks like the poor human is in shock."

His heart leapt when he heard them talk about the village. He was barely aware as he stumbled with the revenant following him. Flames raged behind him as the arcane horror set fire to the farmland. He could see miles of farms around him in a raging inferno. He wondered for a brief moment if he was dead and being punished. He dared to look up at the village entrance. He stopped and vomited as the revenant's blade smacked him hard on the back, forcing him forward. The two templar were hung from high poles, mutilated and nude. The residents of the village had been herded up in front of the village chantry. Demons mulled around the village like it was normal. He wouldn't have recognized a single type but a mage would have fainted of shock.

The seductive desire demons prowled about like cats as the semi-formless rage and hunger demons slid about. Arcane horrors and revenants dotted the small village. Two massive hulking pride demons were striding at nearly rooftop level. They even dwarfed the ogres. Several homes were burning and dead bodies had been scattered around the streets. Some of the demons were feeding. Marcus couldn't help it and he threw up again as he was shoved into the circle.

An arcane horror was hovering atop the platform upon which there was a statue of Andraste. It was the small village's greatest pride. In one of his hands he held revered mother Marion by her neck. The old woman looked as though she might die from shock itself. Marcus was far too numb to act and the only sounds he heard from the bunched up people were cries and sobs. The demon atop the platform grinned as he set the woman on fire and tossed her screaming form aside. He gestured one of the hulking pride demons as Andraste's statue was demolished. The chantry was soon set on fire. As the flames raged into the sky, the demon spoke.

"From this day, you shall forget your Maker." It hissed. "Kneel for the dragon lord. Kneel for the old gods."

Most people in the crowd fell into prostration from fear, Marcus among them. He was whimpering imperceptibly as his forehead touched the ground and he shut his eyes tight. He chanced a short glance up. Some people had not fallen to their knees. A few who were too numb or shocked to react. A few zealous chantry priests who uttered their prayers in vain. Several flew to the waiting blades of revenants. Two were set upon by desire demons, a horrifically slow death for them. One of the massive pride demons ate four people casually, like a snack. Its massive maw making small crunching sounds.

"Repeat after me." The arcane horror mocked as it began to mutter something in a language unfamiliar to Marcus. It was, in fact, an ancient tevinter prayer to the old gods.

The village people struggled to mouth the unfamiliar syllables with their eyes skewed shut.

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"That dog has been beside us for several minutes." A desire demon hissed to the revenant marching beside her and the monstrous pride demon behind them. "Why is it not afraid?"

They had been roaming the forests, in search of a settlement. There they would find prey and they could perform their task.

"That is no dog." The pride demon said ponderously.

The voice of the dragon lord tore painfully through their minds. "Flemeth the shapeshifter!" It roared. "Bring her before me."

The demons turned but the dog was gone and replaced by an old woman. Flemeth's familiar form.

"A poor decision." She muttered as the demons charged. A rather flashy display of magic later, Flemeth stood over the bodies of the demons.

"Maybe now the old gods will regret teaching me some of their tricks." She muttered as she shapeshifted into a raven and flew into the sky. These latest developments were disturbing.

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_Author's Note: Now, this story has demons too. It's like I'm hosting a lore party or something. Anyway, just a small note that the 'I' in the first section shouldn't be mistaken for the author of this story(just mentioning). I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I'll try to get my next update in soon._

_To my reviewers:_

_interesting2125: Thanks so much! This story should allow for plenty of both so I hope it's satisfactory. Thanks, once again. _


	16. In Fate's Shadow

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it and do leave your feedback._

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Chapter 16 – In Fate's Shadow

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Demons. Every young child is well taught to be afraid, oh so very afraid. Pray to the Maker and it all gets better though. Be a bad boy and the demons will take you away. Primitive knowledge, admittedly but enough for the people of Ferelden to have realized that they were in serious danger. An interesting, if somewhat morbid, thought comes to mind. Which is worse? A demon invasion or a blight? The demons are fewer, certainly and there is no archdemon. And yet, it would have been foolish to assume that there was nothing 'higher' guiding or ordering the demons. Inherently, their nature is hierarchical and based on simple power. Demons obey other demons only because it hurts not to. Never do they work in such large, organized groups though. Like a personal army, for the lord of dragons. They obey him because of power, because it hurts not to.

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She dreams. Leliana finds herself in a seemingly endless plain of grass, dotted with small patches of forest. That is, however, not what draws her attention. Before her stands a dragon that looks like the void itself. Its glowing white eyes bore into her very soul. She knows that she is looking upon the form of Dumat, the god of silence. A change comes upon the area as everything shudders. Dumat's form seems to grow, although it essentially looks the same. The skies shatter as the beast's enormous form tears through them. The ground crumbles as the dragon's feet leak below it. A fetid, malign aura of desolation falls upon the land.

The bard understands. The dragon lord is revealing his true form. Worlds collide and two realities leak into one another in order for Dumat to exist in such shape. The fade and the world become one as the god of silence roars. Leliana gasps and quivers in fright, she does not want to but the true form of the god is... too much.

"Why me?" She screams.

"Your abysmal bad luck." The voice is all around her. She does not understand. She looks around and gives a small cry. Everything around her _is _Dumat.

"Luck..." She says faintly.

"Indeed. Your... misfortune." The voice continues. "It could have been anyone. Why you, indeed? Perhaps even we do not have that answer. It felt... sufficient. Maybe it is your fate."

"But Father Roysten had a... vision and... and my vision and..." She stutters in a way most unlike herself. She cannot help it. The dragon lord's presence is overwhelming.

"You should ask Razikale about the visions and who sent them." Dumat laughs as the bard shakes her head. To her increasing horror, the dragon sings lightly.

"The Old Gods will call to you,  
From their ancient prisons they will sing.  
Dragons with wicked eyes and wicked hearts,  
On blacken'd wings does deceit take flight,  
The first of My children, lost to night."

"No." The orlesian mutters. It can't be a lie, not all of it.

She cranes her neck upwards, struggling to search for Dumat's head. It is... high, in another world. The old god cranes his head downwards. She meets his horrific eyes. In them she sees the death of a thousand, the suffering of a million. She sees her old friends and companions. She sees the one she wants die slowly. She sees the desolation of the world. A few innocents, screaming in a barren world, wasting away from hunger and thirst. She sees absence, she understands silence. She observes a hundred worlds die in those eyes. It is horrifically painful.

She awakes with a start. This is why she avoids sleep these days.

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The scene outside the circle tower was a cause for significant concern. Near the lake, at two places on the hill were gaping holes in reality. Faintly outlined in red, if you looked carefully you could have seen the fade itself. There they stood like twin statues in defiance of existence itself. The docks of lake Calenhad were aflame and drenched in the sounds of battle. The demons had initially cut a swath through the area, massacring the few templar on the unlucky side of the lake. An arcane horror observed from between the fade portals with satisfaction. His instructions had been quite simple and he was honoured that they had come from the dragon lord himself.

Find the grey warden known as Alisa Surana and her companions. Kill everyone in your way. Bring them before the dragons if possible. Kill if they put up too much resistance.

And then he had been directed to this tower that housed the mages. Ah, mages. The demons had desired to posses them whenever they could. The horror laughed as he realized that was no longer necessary. They were truly free now. The only trouble now was getting across the accursed lake. The fools at the other side had the clear strategic advantage. He laughed in a rasping, grating voice as he commanded the legion forward. He was met with suspicious glances. He grinned in response. Nothing but cannon fodder. All it would take was for one of the large pride demons to make it across and the battle would be won. The demon wondered if the beasts could swim. He hoped they could for he was uncomfortable in questioning those particular beasts. The hulking creatures intimidated even him. But they obeyed and that was all that was needed.

He glanced aside as a desire demon crept up to him and waited, giving an expectant look.

"What?" The arcane horror rasped.

"Y- you see..." She began, voice unusually nervous for a desire demon. "The templars have... released the mages from the tower. They will... assist in the defence."

The demon growled as he turned his head towards the tower once more. Sure enough flames were flying towards them now. The advancing demons had fallen back to the shore, hissing and growling as magic flew through the sky. He had been told that this was a very unlikely event. He suspected it had something to do with his accursed target. His frustration mounted a crescendo as he electrocuted the desire demon to death without a second thought. Now he could think clearly once more.

"Let them come to us." He ordered. "They can't stay holed up in that tower forever. Find whatever humans are left in this settlement. Kill them in plain sight of those fools, as slowly as possible."

He would draw them out by igniting their anger. He raised his hand and summoned a lightning maelstrom upon the tower. It dissipated quickly due to the mages' efforts but a few stray bolts did strike the area. He cursed the incompetence of the other demons. He was by far the most competent magic wielder in the army. He saw the surface of the lake bubble as several rocks floated to the surface. They formed a massive bridge that connected the island and the docks. He could see the mages who were maintaining the spell. Armies rallied on both side, occasionally exchanging artillery fire in the form of fireballs and lightning strikes. The fade portals flickered as two more massive pride demons emerged and took their place at the head of the make shift bridge. He smiled. A gift from the gods. Now he had four of the hulking beasts to use. A single one of them could take armies apart.

The enemy advanced, the templars intelligently leading the charge. The mages followed carefully behind, providing cover for the armoured soldiers to advance. The demons hissed and roared as they prepared to go wild. The arcane horror descended from the hill to be closer to the battle.

"Kill them all." He barked. "Forget trying to find the damned warden."

The templars rushed the last distance as they cut into the demons using their anti-magic capabilities. The arcane horror laughed as four templar were knocked flying into the lake by one of the pride demons. Another flew through the air and found himself upon a revenant's blade. A blizzard engulfed the area as the demon growled. He dispelled the magic with minor effort. It had been a sufficient distraction; the armies were now mixed together thoroughly. He had lost his tactical advantage but he didn't much care. His hand burst into flames as he grasped one of the mages. The woman shrieked as she began to burn. He laughed joyously at the cries of pain and the bloodshed. The real battle was on.

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Lance had been in worse situations before. On second thought, maybe not. He fired a boulder to force back a desire demon and unleashed a blaze of ice to decimate several rage demons. While it was a brilliant decision to use the blizzard as cover to mix the armies together, it made the mages vulnerable. There was no other way though. The question of where those damned veil tears came from was still worrying him. And why so many demons? Why an organized... army? Demons didn't have armies... did they?

He focused on the task at hand as he released a relentless blaze of electricity at a horde of advancing demons, slowly forcing them to the ground. The templars had erected anti magic barriers for them during the charge but that was gone now. He could occasionally catch a glimpse of Alisa or one of her companions fighting. He sighed as felt terribly outclassed. Alistair was doing a brilliant job of getting rid of the demons that possessed advanced magic. That would likely lessen the raging storms and flying fireballs they had to worry about.

The qunari, Sten, was simply tearing through the beasts with little fear or regard. His massive two handed sword was like the scythe of death as it tore through the demons. He was being held up however. Even with his great skill, he would have trouble downing the monstrous pride demon that was trying to destroy him.

Zevran was being the lithe assassin he was supposed to be. Lance watched the elf at work, silently picking off demons wherever he could. If anything, he seemed more feline than even the desire demons. Lance chuckled to himself over the observation as he burnt one of the female demons away.

Wynne was doing what she could to keep an entire army healed and safe. Her body looked ethereal and spirit like which surprised the blond mage. He made a mental note to ask about it later. It surprised him how many pointless observations could be made in the heat of a battle. He was running almost purely on instinct now.

He saw the red bearded dwarf viciously swinging his axe, hurling insults equally vicious. He noticed a wolf tear the neck of one of the arcane horrors in the army before it shapeshifted to the form of the witch. He whistled softly as brought down a number of rage demons. Apostates knew some neat tricks. Maybe he should ask about the later.

Alisa was viciously tearing through unbelievably large quantities of the demons. Fire, electricity and ice swirled around her in a titanic storm. She was working with the first enchanter and several circle mages to bring down one of the pride demons. He took a moment to admire her beauty as the battle around him lulled for a few seconds.

He focused again as he cast his eyes to the veil tears on the hill. Demons poured from them at intermittent intervals. They would never win at this rate. He could hear the screams in the air and see the bodies on the ground. He had an idea although it was insane. Admittedly, he would rather have been on the other side of the lake. He wasn't much the close up battle type. Actually, he wasn't much the battle type at all. Still, he was willing to do what had to be done.

He made a mad rush for the veil tears, forcing demons out of his path. He was burning his magic at an almost painful rate. He downed the spare Lyrium potion he kept on his person in a single go. He breathed a sigh of relief as some of his strength returned. His face grew hopeful; he had made it to the top of the hills. He narrowly avoided a large rock as he noticed an arcane horror floating between the portals. It radiated a significantly more dangerous aura than the other demons.

"So brave, so foolish." It rasped slowly. "Die."

Magic flew from both of them as lightning met lightning and crackled through the air. He released a fireball that was met with a wave of frost which was met by a lightning bolt from his staff. This continued for some time till he realised that the demon was tiring far slower than he was. He noticed, to his utmost surprise, a wounded dog trapped under a fallen tree. It was right behind the demon, terribly close. Again it shocked him that he could make so many pointless observations in the heat of a clash. Was he really that lucky?

"Maybe it's just fate." He muttered. "Forgive me."

He sneaked a spell in between his heated magical exchange with the arcane horror. He took comfort in the fact that he was merely putting the dog out of its misery. A few moments later it exploded in a fantastic blaze. The demon roared as it struggled to gather itself only to have electricity rained upon it. Lance was breathing heavily but the demon looked as though it was down. He moved to seal the tears. He noticed, barely in time, a massive object in his peripheral vision. He jumped aside just in time, scraping himself on the ground.

He turned around to see that the massive object was in fact the arm of one of the pride demons. He gulped as he struggled back to avoid another massive impact. He cast another fireball that seemed to have no effect. The arcane horror was floating again. Curse his idiotic plans. He wondered if he was going to die. It seemed like a terribly real possibility.

"Not bad human." The floating demon acknowledged as the pride demon stood there. "Tell me, will you kneel before the dragon lord? Will you kneel for the old gods?"

He began to realize what this was about. He sighed, he should have expected it.

"I'll kneel to spit on his fetid corpse." Lance snapped back at the demon.

"Blasphemy." It said with an amused smile. "Eat him."

The pride demon reached down as Lance's spells glanced off its hide, doing minor damage. A swathe of flame washed over the arcane horror and the pride demon as Lance jerked his head to the side. He grinned widely. Alisa and the first enchanter. Timely to say the least. He reached within and contributed to the massive inferno. He watched the demons slowly whither to ash despite their resistance. He struggled to his feet as Alisa jogged up the hill. Irving stayed below to keep demons off their back.

"Didn't you say it would take more than a few demons to take you down?" The warden smirked as she helped him up. Lance gave her a disgruntled look.

"I wasn't expecting a pride demon of that size." He muttered shortly. He would never hear the end of this. "Let's seal these tears, shall we."

The elf nodded, her face serious again as they snapped the voids shut with some effort. Lance exhaled and turned around. The demons were almost all dead. They had suffered a decent number of losses though. And that was only compounding the fantastic losses the circle had suffered during the... incident with Uldred.

Still, at least this battle was won.

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Marcus was sweating as he helped cart stones to the site where the chantry had once stood. Things had changed in the village, obviously for the worse. The demons had set about forcing them to replace Andraste' statue with a dragon's and build some twisted temple on the ashen remains of the chantry. The villagers ate rarely and only meat. The farms had been burnt away.

The demons ate as well. At good times they would consume animals. But for the majority of the time they would feast on human flesh. They would sacrifice people to the dragons and then consume them.

Marcus could see the arcane horror preparing to sacrifice a small, crying boy. Enough was enough. Rage welled in his heart as he made the decision to do something fantastically stupid. He rushed forward and smacked the demon across its jaw.

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Denerim was under the threat of burning. Demons were beginning to rally outside the city. That however, is another story. The matter to be brought to attention is that Denerim may have burnt under the blight as well. We cannot be certain but it is a possibility. Either the city burns at the hands of darkspawn or at the hands of demons. Was it perhaps fated for the great city to burn, regardless of what choices people made? You see, in some cases, fate and free will are one and the same. Do you understand?

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_Author's Note: Well, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Do leave your thoughts, I should update soon._

_To my reviewers:_

_Nightwish11606: Glad you liked it! Will Alisa forgive Morrigan? Hmmm, we shall wait and see. What do you think ;)_

_interesting2125: Thanks! You will probably see more banter as we go along, I had an intention of brining that in once in a way. Your idea on demon interaction was a brilliant suggestion so thanks! I'll make sure I include that down the line. And our plot shall probably twist a bit more ;)_

_ *Walks off wondering if he can twist the plot so much that it ends up straight.*_


	17. Precision

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Here's the next installment. I had actually wanted to get this up yesterday. Of course I have a very valid reason the delay. That is... um... I... let's move on shall we? A minor warning for a bit of violence and unpleasantness. Nothing too extreme though. Hope you enjoy the chapter. Do leave your feedback._

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Chapter 17 – Precision

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In unity we find strength. In its absence we are often left unable to achieve the purpose that drives us. The old gods are not fools. They see threats clearly, they stand out. Did they ever expect the demons to topple Ferelden? Unlikely, although the definite answer will likely elude us. A stage is all they may have wished to set, upon which their act may be more subtle. Big, crass and exaggerated assaults are simple masks for an assassin's strike. A precise blow, hitting the threats. What if they miss? Death can often be substituted by snapping unity. Yet, as has been said before, there was still one thing they had not seen coming.

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"Worthless demons." Zazikel barks.

"Indeed, Alisa Surana still lives. As do all her companions." Lucasan continues.

"That miserable traitor from the chantry has betrayed Leliana's location." Urthemiel sings.

"And the warden will depart to meet her immediately." Toth growls.

"And should she manage to... change Leliana's mind..." Andoral's voice grates. "Things are unravelling."

"Hardly." Razikale snaps. "There is always a valid solution. The prison is sufficiently cracked."

"How many are you capable of?" Dumat asks simply.

"One." The clear voice mutters.

"We must ensure that it works."

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The circle seemed normal again. The docks of Lake Calenhad did not. Most of the buildings had been burnt to the ground, many were dead and the ground still bore scars of the titanic conflict. The sun, however, shone brightly in the sky. Little things like that often have a great influence on morale. The losses on the circle's side were not nearly as heavy as Lance had suspected. The warden and her companions had miraculously managed to avoid any major injuries. The young mage was impressed at their combat prowess to say the least and yet after a short encounter with Leliana, they had been badly wounded. He was just a touch more afraid but equally determined.

He finished bandaging a cut on his arm. He had no idea where that gash had come from but it wasn't too bad. He looked up to see Alistair staring at the marks on his wrists. He prodded the blackened skin lightly and winced.

"You shouldn't do that." Lance smiled. "Dress the wound again and leave it be."

The templar nodded and began wrapping it again.

"What kind of magic is this anyway?" He muttered.

"The magic of the old gods." Lance said simply. "We couldn't heal it, no matter how hard we tried. It should fade in time. At least it doesn't hamper your battle proficiency."

"I still can't believe Leliana would..." Alistair stopped himself for a moment. "Did Alisa tell you everything?"

"Yeah." The blond mage said in a tired voice. "It's... what can I say?"

The templar nodded before changing the subject. "So you and her were friends?"

"The closest." Lance replied, smiling fondly. "We hit it off right from the start. Things were never the same after she left. But we had our own problems shortly after."

"Has she... changed?" Alistair asked.

"A bit, not too much." The mage replied. "The whole thing with Leliana seems to have hit her pretty badly though. But what surprises me the most is that she's travelling with a _templar_."

"Hey!" Alistair said indignantly, but he had cracked a smile. "I'll have you know I'm not much into... that kind of stuff."

"She told me." Lance smiled as he got up. "Anyway, time's wasting. We need to leave."

"Do you think the demons have emerged elsewhere?" The templar questioned, his tone serious again.

"It's certainly possible. Be careful on your way to Denerim." Lance said quietly. "And, I hate to say this but be prepared to find the worst when you get there. I hope I'm wrong though."

Alistair nodded before following Lance out of the infirmary and down to the main hall where the others were waiting.

"Finally." Alisa said. "Let's go. The faster we settle this, the better."

"Warden, some circle mages will be ready if aid is ever needed." The first enchanter said as they left.

"The templar will be glad to aid you if it is needed." Greagor continued.

They had spoken with the First Enchanter and knight commander after the battle. Lance had made it clear that Ferelden may well be under more threat than was the case with the darkspawn. They had been guaranteed aid should the requirement arise. They hadn't mentioned the old gods and they didn't intend to for a while. The priority was stopping their potential release.

The group crossed the lake and Alisa bid the rest of them farewell as she, Lance and Morrigan went a different way, as told by Brother Adrian. Alistair continued with the rest of them towards Denerim. Lance and Alisa began the trek, discussing the situation. The witch followed several paces behind, unsure of what to say.

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In the depths of the fade, a massive pride demon flexed its muscles as it considered what to do for the hundredth time. It knew what to do but there were so many choices. This fade portal or that one? Which humans to eat and enslave. It would have gone to the circle tower but those were shut now. The old gods had... informed the demons of their displeasure. The pride demon's mind still ached with their fury.

It understood that something must have changed for the old gods' voices to be able to reach so far. To touch the minds of so many demons at once. It finally began to amble towards one of the veil tears when Dumat's voice pierced its mind.

"The sun sets upon the world." The voice dug into its very soul.

"And you let us bask in the twilight." The demon replied.

"Yes." Dumat said with a short laugh that made the pride demon clutch its head. "We have a task for you. Are you willing?"

"Of course." The demon was shouting now, mostly in desperation. "I won't fail, I promise. Anything."

It knew the price for refusal and failure was the same. Death.

"We have a target we wish you to eliminate. No matter the cost."

"I shall rip them limb from limb if you desire!"

"Good. Your target is the elf mage Alisa Surana, one of the grey wardens. She is travelling with two others." Dumat instructed. "Do whatever is needed to kill her. We do not care if you lose your life in the process. If you survive, do what you wish with the others."

An image flashed in the demon's mind as it saw the woman and her location.

"There is no veil tear close by, lord." The demons manages, its mind is still throbbing.

"Indeed." The dragon lord replies contemptuously. "Razikale shall rip the veil open for you herself. Go now and perform your task."

The presence departed from the demon's mind as it sighed in relief and stood up. It blinked several times before it realized what it was looking at. The veil tear before it was a perfect circle, no outline colours. It was certainly the work of a god, no ordinary being could create a rip this elegant and with no energy leakage. It prepared itself before marching through the rip in reality.

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"There are _demons _outside!" Tiberius yelled as he slammed the chantry doors shut.

The small chantry had become a chaotic place. Tiberius, Bridget, Robert and Elaine rushed around, attempting to barricade the doors and find weapons with which to fight. Tiberius had opened the doors and stepped out to find the sunlit world marred by the presence of two revenants and two arcane horrors. They had regarded him with cool contempt and not reacted as he had slammed the gates shut. The only person who seemed unphased by the entire situation was Father Roysten. He strolled down towards the gates in a relaxed manner.

"Relax, my children." He said calmly. "I think we have reason to believe that Leliana has something to do with this."

"_Demons, _Father?" Elaine cried out. "Whatever she is, calling demons into the world is unacceptable."

"She is insane." Robert muttered. "This is going too far, we must get rid of her."

"Child, you could not harm her if you chose to." Roysten said softly. "It is for the best."

"How can you say that?" Bridget asked incredulously.

"Perhaps this is our reckoning." He replied calmly. "Perhaps, the world is about to end. This may well be our last test. Relax, my children. Paradise awaits those loyal to the Maker. Do not fear death."

They nodded meekly and with great hesitation began unblocking the doorway. Tiberius noticed Leliana stride into the hall. Amusement glinted in those cold eyes. It filled him with annoyance but he did not react.

"Did the demons surprise you?" She smirked. "You shouldn't worry; they're only here for our protection."

"Protection from what, child?" Father Roysten asked.

"People." She replied silently. "That fool Adrian has betrayed our location."

"No, Adrian wouldn't... he's been gone a bit too long." Tiberius muttered as the realization dawned.

"Unfortunate." Roysten said plainly. "What is going on child?"

"It's what _they _want you old fool." She sneered. "Whatever you wanted out of this is long gone. We have no control over events now. Some of us scarcely have control over ourselves."

"Have faith that the Maker knows best." He replied.

Leliana sighed before turning around and beginning to walk away. "We'll see what good your prayers do you when Dumat consumes the world."

The last line was spoken to softly for anyone to hear. Perhaps she was merely thinking to herself.

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Marcus' eyes opened slowly. His memory was somewhat foggy; the last thing he remembered was punching that demon. Then he had been hit hard across the head with some solid object, probably a shield. The back of his head ached. He explored the area with his hand and then groaned as he brought his hand forward again. It was coated in some blood. He could see that he was in some sort of shed. A faint bit of light leaked into the empty room through a small window. He tried the door only to find it locked. He considered slamming the door open when he heard a key turn and the doorway open.

The demon he had struck, or one that looked just like it, floated in. He felt an invisible force push him back harshly, slamming him against the opposite wall. A desire demon prowled into the shed after him.

"You are brave human." The demon hissed. "But also very foolish. Be glad that you are being forgiven. Strong workmen are... short in this small village. Kneel for the dragon lord and then return to work."

"No." Marcus said. He was happier to die here than take life as a slave under the demons.

"No?" The demon said in surprise.

The desire demon walked up to him and pinned him against the wall. It purred softly.

"Kneel, dear." It said in a seductive voice. "I'll make it worth your while."

Its long nails raked painfully along his right cheek. He could feel the warm blood flow. His only response was to spit in the demon's face. It hissed violently and its arm slashed over its stomach. He grimaced as the demon struck again, but far more languorously this time. He could tell that both wounds were only shallow. For whatever reason, they still weren't killing him.

"Defiant, aren't you?" The arcane horror said in an amused tone. "You will bow, little human. One way or another."

"Should we let him starve?" The desire demon cooed as her nails lingered dangerously close to his neck.

"Oh no. Feed him what he deserves." The demons hissed before departing.

Marcus sat alone in the room for what might have been several hours. Slamming his fist against the window and door was pointless. They must have been magically reinforced by the demons. He gently dabbed at his wounds with cloth torn from his shirt. They weren't half as bad as he had feared. He'd have some scars at the end of it though. The door creaked open again as he looked up to find what he presumed was the same desire demon. She had a plate in her hand.

"Here human, what you deserve." She grinned.

Another demon followed her in and locked his arms from behind. She grasped a fistful of dirt from the plate and shoved it into his mouth. He tried to spit but the demon had her arm around his jaw, forcing him to chew. He growled violently and struggled to no avail. A few more fistfuls later, they let him fall to the ground and walked away.

"Will you bow now?" She growled.

"Maker spit on you, bitch." He spat.

"We'll see how long this keeps up." She said before leaving.

Another few hours passed before she opened his door and tossed in a handful of rats and dropped a bowl before leaving.

"Your meal." She hissed as the door shut.

The water looked like muddy puddle water and the rats were very definitely alive. His stomach was growling and his throat was parched, more so because of the dirt. He wondered how desperate he was.

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Morrigan trailed behind Alisa and Lance. Her heart panged a little whenever they shared a laugh or conversation. The warden was obviously still angry with her. Lance had spoken with her during their last meal in a reserved tone. It was merely a few questions on shapeshifting. He didn't seem to want to really talk to her until the elf warmed up. She had probably told him anyway.

She had replied as genuinely and kindly as she could, despite her nature. She had been conquering an urge to burn the lot of them for several days now. But for once she was determined to make amends, one way or another. Although turning them to ashes was still a tempting prospect.

They had been treading through the forest when the witch swore she had seen something flicker in the air. She wondered if she was being paranoid. They had only been travelling for a few hours, she needed to relax. But again, that flicker. It was right in their path too. She strained her eyes to notice that the slight disturbance was roughly circular. She froze in spot.

"Stop!" She screamed. The two of them halted and Alisa shot her glance mixed with curiosity and annoyance. "Do you not see that disturbance?"

The other two looked for a while before backing up.

"What is it?" Lance muttered.

Their staffs were drawn now. They positioned themselves to have cover of the trees if need be. Morrigan saw a flicker of an image. That was enough to tell her what she was looking at.

"Tis a fade portal." She muttered.

And yet, she was curious. Her mother had told her about fade portals. And yet, never had she described them as such perfect circles or so subtle. They were usually jagged rips, outlined by excess energy.

"Seal it!" Alisa barked as the other two jumped into action.

To the witch's relief, the portal began to slowly seal itself. Just as she was ready to breathe a sigh of relief, an enormous pride demon managed to step through. The tear snapped shut behind it. It didn't appear to care. It was easily larger than an ogre, with black, stony skin. Six beady eyes rested on its head above a large mouth. Its arms and legs were solidly muscled as it flexed itself and growled.

"I have come to obliterate you." It said simply before leaping towards them

The three of them dashed from the point of impact as the demon crashed upon the ground, knocking down a tree in the process. It ate a fireball from Morrigan and a lightning blast for Lance as it charged straight for Alisa. The elf barely dodged out of the way of the sweeping arm. A boulder from Morrigan struck it hard in the back as Lance drenched it in an inferno. Apparently unconcerned at the faint rips and chars on its body, it rushed for the warden again.

"Tis clear that it wants Alisa." Morrigan said. "Hit it with everything you have."

The witch and the blond mage struck the demon repeatedly with every spell they could think of as it swept its arms wildly, trying to catch the elf. Alisa made a slight misstep as the demon's hand slammed into her left side, knocking her away like a ragdoll. She skidded along the earth for a short distance and then lay there, unmoving. Lance could see blood spilling from the left side of her face.

"Alisa!" He shouted as he and Morrigan simultaneously unleashed a blaze of electricity upon the demon. It struggled to move as the lightning brought it down to its knees. It crawled towards the warden with the last of its breath but collapsed, still some distance away. Once they were confident of its demise, they rushed to the warden's side.

For several minutes, they frantically used as many healing spells as they could, hoping to wake her. Eventually, Lance laid his arm against her neck.

"She's alive, but the injuries are pretty bad." He breathed. "She's broken her left arm and she may have cracked a few ribs."

He shook his head. "And she may have concussion too. Brilliant."

"She needs better healing." Morrigan said flatly. "Tis best if you take her back to the tower."

"Me?" Lance said, narrowing his eyes. "What about you?"

"It will waste too much time if we all go. Take care of her, I shall go find Leliana." The witch said firmly.

"Are you insane?" The blond mage snapped. "You're the one she's most likely to kill, damn it."

"I am going." Morrigan shot back. "Now unless you want me to hex you, take Alisa back now."

Lance stared at the witch's golden eyes for several moments before relenting.

"Fine, it's your decision to make." He muttered. He would be lying if he said he wasn't moved by the determination in those eyes. His expression softened a bit. "Be careful. And if she tries to kill you, run. Alisa will probably kill _me _if you don't come back."

Morrigan nodded. "Take care of her." She said before shapeshifting into a bird and flying into the sky.

Lance settled down to administer some additional healing before moving Alisa.

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"She's still alive." Andoral hisses.

"It hardly matters now." Razikale responds. "The witch is going alone, she will surely die."

"But what of the warden?" Zazikel asks.

"I hope that some time alone with the human mage will... open some feelings." The clear voice replies.

"Even if it does work that way, could she not simply beg forgiveness and say she... cares." Toth speaks the last word with distaste.

"It will be insufficient." Razikale assures them.

"For now we shall watch." Dumat says. "When the time is right, we shall strike once more."

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_Author's Note: Well, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I'd love to hear your feedback. Next update shall be soon (I have a decent bit of writing time these days)._

_To my reviewers:_

_Nightwish11606: Thanks for the review! I'm glad the freakishness worked. All this leads somewhere rather interesting, plot twists await :D_

_interesting 2125: Thanks! Also, by not like Lel, I meant the new Lel. Writing slipping... must focus... Also, yes she needs a hug, she'll probably get one too. Let's just hope it isn't from a dragon ;) Yeah, sacrifices little kids and our gods want to tear reality apart. Otherwise, all hunky dory. I'm not a chantry fan at all (yeah, everyone knows that :P) but this might just be worse. On the whole. A bit. Hope you like where this is going!_


	18. Creeping Shadows

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Sorry for the delay on this chapter but it was giving me a bit of trouble. I know exactly where I want this story to go but the transition was feeling jerky to me. So after the millionth (more like third or fourth) set of changes I decided to stick with this. I apologize if this is a bit bumpy and not quite as good. It'll get better from next time, I can assure you. Nonetheless, I hope you like it and do leave me your feedback._

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Chapter 18 – Creeping Shadows

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The people of Thedas, especially the mages. We think that we understand magic; we realize its pleasures and dangers. The chantry understands its dangers more than its pleasures, for better or worse. The tower in Ferelden has so much knowledge, people there understand so much. The cruel truth is that we have lost so much. Magic from the old days, from the time when gods walked the land. From the age of Lyrium circles and creatures that have now passed into myth. And yet, the power of the old gods was growing. It rippled through the fade and reflected upon Ferelden and Thedas. It is no real surprise that things from long ago were threatening to awake once more. Long forgotten magic brought to light by the iridescent purple scales of Razikale, mistress of magic. Secrets from Arlathan, gifts from the elven gods. Ah, we understood so little. So very little.

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"What if Flemeth should exercise both options?" Lucasan asks suddenly in the darkness.

"Both?" Urthemiel echoes.

"She could, if she so desired." Lucasan replies.

"But she can oversee only one." Zazikel points out.

"The dread wolf." Toth says simply.

"Possible." Razikale muses. "Flemeth sees this situation as straight; her aim is simply to get enough power to stop us. She does not see how convoluted things really are."

Andoral chuckles. "How ironic that Flemeth does not see convolutions."

"Do we have an adequate response if she chooses to follow this course?" Lucasan asks.

"Of course." Dumat responds. "Leliana _is _an adequate response for the moment."

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Denerim had seen better days. The city had barely begun to recover from the assassination of Teyrn Loghain and Arl Howe. Anora had, to her credit, played an instrumental role in ensuring that the city did not fall apart. And as some semblance of normalcy began to return, the demons had come. To their luck, only a single veil tear had appeared outside the city gates. The demons were relatively few in number and had been unable to pierce the gate. The real crisis was the veil tear that had opened within the city walls. There were demons loose in the city and the guard was doing its very best. There were few mages in the city and their protection took precedence above all else. There was simply no other way to seal the veil tears.

The tear had opened in the more rundown areas of the city; its discovery had been late. In fact, it had only come when the pearl had been struck.

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The young guard had just finished enjoying a fantastic time at the pearl. He flicked the money into Sanga's hand as he left for his shift. He pushed the door open and walked into the street to be greeted by a scream. His head jerked around to find the source. The fireball missed him by barely a few feet. He collapsed in shock, quivering at the sight before him.

"D-d-demons!" He screamed at the top of his voice. The unearthly beasts before him regarded him with indifference. One of the floating demons had a fireball in its hand. Beside it stood a fully armoured figure with a sword drawn. Several shapeless molten masses crawled around, making a path towards the poor downed guard.

One of the pearl's employees stuck her head out, seeking the source of the noise. She jerked back and ran in, screaming at the top of her voice. The soldier wondered if they would make it out the back door. As long as the monsters weren't there as well. He pointlessly clutched a rock. He dropped it a moment later and fell into prayer. The armoured creature stood above him now. The sword descended.

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Queen Anora was fully aware of the situation. The landsmeet and all those problems were forgotten. To her credit, she stayed as calm as the environment would allow. Maker! Demons in Denerim? Surely it was impossible. And yet, there were more outside the gates. She glanced around the room. The looks on the faces of her advisors were incredibly frustrating. They were whimpering like little children. She might have done it too, but she wouldn't let herself. Someone had to keep things in place.

"The gates will hold your majesty." One of them said after a gulp. "But the beasts are _in _the city."

"Where are they coming from?" Anora demanded.

"Your majesty, it may seem unlikely but it is clear that there is a veil tear in the city." The mage who was present spoke up.

"A what?"

"A... portal between here and the fade. With a few other mages we could close it, if we could find it." He managed.

"Then get as many men and mages as you can spare and find it." She said plainly. "We have to cut off the flow."

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"This does not look good." Zevran said flatly as they spied on Denerim's main gate from a hillock, being careful to hide themselves.

"You don't say." Alistair muttered. Just five of them left now. Himself, Zevran, Sten, Oghren and Wynne. Not nearly enough to break through the group of demons that prowled the outskirts of the city. They stayed just out of arrow range as they considered the situation.

"I have no idea what to do." The templar sighed.

"No soddin' way we're breakin into that city." Oghren said flatly.

"We require assistance." Sten spoke.

"All the way back to the circle tower? Will there even be a city to come back to?" Alistair muttered.

"We need to do _something_." Wynne said.

A cacophony of sound pierced their ears as they hurriedly got to their feet, staring at the city gates. The demons were apparently trying an assault. They had been soundly repelled though and several had fallen. One of the arcane horrors raised its hand and rasped an indecipherable command.

"It's obvious." Wynne said suddenly. "They'll wait for one of the larger pride demons."

"That gate will break like a twig." Said Alistair, horrified.

"I will return to the tower and request assistance." Zevran murmured as he stood up. "I can travel the fastest among you."

"It ain't safe for one person." Oghren muttered.

"No demon will catch me." The elf said confidently.

"Someone must go." Sten pointed out.

"All right." Sighed the templar. "Be careful Zevran."

The assassin nodded before sprinting off in the direction they had come from.

"His return could take much time." Wynne said. "I wonder why the soldiers in the city have not attacked. Unless... they are already occupied."

"You... you think there's a tear _inside _the city?" Asked the templar.

"It is certainly a possibility." The old mage responded.

"I hope Arl Eamon is safe."

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Morrigan flew through the air as a raven. She was busy thinking as she spied on the ground below. Was she foolish to be doing this? Very likely. Leliana hated her. She would very probably end up dead. But it hadn't always been like that. Initially, the disdain and contempt had come from her. The orlesian was a chantry sister. What else was she to have thought?

She spied a building in the distance. That should be what she was looking for. It turned out that Leliana had been an orlesian spy. Not some chantry sister. It hadn't just been that. She supposed she had been a tad jealous of how close the bard was becoming with the warden. And Leliana certainly was... striking. She refused to admit more than that. But it was all different now, wasn't it? Her beauty was unearthly now. Urthemiel. She remembered the ritual she had planned to enact. Her mother had likely wanted the child for herself. But Morrigan had belayed that. She had been incredibly frustrated as of late.

Alisa had been ignoring her. She couldn't understand a damn thing that was going on. The old gods were locked away, weren't they? The blight was over just like that? She pushed the maelstrom of thoughts away as he descended to the ground and resumed her ordinary form.

She had warmed up a slight bit more to Leliana after her little revelation. To her annoyance, the bard had pressed her so much after that. She hated to say it but they had almost been friends. And then her jealousy had gotten the better of her. She didn't wish to think beyond that.

She observed silently from the forest, there were demons standing guard. She shapeshifted into a small bird and rose into the sky. She knew that the demons would not notice the deception unless they looked carefully. She descended towards one of the upper windows and slipped inside. She breathed a sigh of relief at having evaded the demons. She shapeshifted into a mouse and made her way out of the room she had found herself in. The crack under the door was just enough to slip through. Provided she had come to the right place, the difficult part began now.

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"So Morrigan is going to talk to Leliana?" Said Alisa with narrowed eyes. "What in the world made you think that was a good idea?"

"She didn't give me much of a choice." Lance murmured.

Alisa sighed and leaned back against a tree, wincing a bit. The demon had certainly done a number on her. She wondered why she was even awake. The forest was so peaceful now, a sharp contrast to the brutal battle they had been in. And now Morrigan was acting incredibly rashly. She had poisoned Leliana, did she actually expect to get through? The two of them hated each other with a passion. At least, that was the impression she had always got.

"How long?" She asked.

"A few hours, I think." Lance replied. "How are you feeling?"

"Well, my side hurts like hell but otherwise fine." Alisa said. "Thanks for the help."

"You don't need to thank me." He said, relaxing a little.

"Can we catch up to Morrigan?" The warden inquired.

"She shapeshifted into a bird. I sincerely doubt we'll catch her." He responded. "She can take care of herself."

"She's also an idiot for doing this." Alisa muttered.

"You still care don't you?" He asked.

"She was a great friend, Lance. Of course I would worry." She said softly. "She did poison Leliana though and I couldn't forgive her for that."

"Any changes in that opinion now that she's gone?" He asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"Maybe." She replied. She gave a frustrated sigh. "This is... too much."

Lance gave her a soft hug. She had really been through a lot. The pain wasn't helping.

"Do you think Leliana will listen?"

"I hope she does." Lance replied. He then gave a small smile. "I'm sure there's some of her old self left that someone can get through too. I just wonder if Morrigan can do it."

"I guess we can hope for the best." Alisa said. "Besides, they say you hurt the ones you love right?"

"Then those two should be married based on what you told me." Lance muttered. The atmosphere lightened a bit and they relaxed a little more.

"You really healed me well." The elf said. "I'm impressed."

"It... wasn't me Alisa." He said.

"I should have guessed." The warden said with a sly smile. It hit her a moment later that Morrigan wasn't much of a healer either. "Then... who?"

"There's someone you should meet." He muttered. "I just wanted to delay till you were feeling a bit better."

"What is it?" She asked, a touch worried.

"You won't like it." Lance said flatly as a figure stepped into view from deeper in the forest.

The old woman locked eyes with Alisa and nodded. The warden blinked several times to make sure who she was looking at.

"Warden." Flemeth said, inclining her head a bit.

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_Author's Note: Well, I hope you enjoyed it. Do leave your feedback. I should get in another update soon enough._

_To my reviewers:_

_Nightwish11606: Thanks a lot! Yeah, I feel bad for Marcus too. We'll get back to him eventually. That might be my plot twist, or not. Not telling just yet ;)_


	19. Diamonds in the Sky

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Well, here's the next update. This entire chapter basically ended up being one scene. Hope it flies. Also,a minor violence warning (I'm having to say this far too much). Anyway, let's dive right in. I hope you enjoy it and do leave me your valued feedback._

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Chapter 19 – Diamonds in the Sky

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And we made our moves while hardly knowing the game itself. Some people thought they knew what they were doing. Flemeth knew just a bit more than us and that was after having conversed with the old gods once upon a time. It was said once; it does not matter by whom. _Do not mistake the raw power and sadism of the old gods for stupidity. _Had we? Perhaps, just a bit. Underestimated them a little. Flemeth was, after all, used to setting the pace, singing the tune. Awkward to be out of your element, although we scarce realized it at the time. Who was pulling whose strings? Who was pulling all the strings? All the strings? Why, fate I suppose. And free will. Both the same sometimes. Do you understand?

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The mouse silently steered its way carefully through the chantry building. To Morrigan's luck, she had found herself where most of the residences seemed to be. The building was somewhat old and the doors had cracks just wide enough at the bottom. She experimented casually with a few rooms and found them empty. She tried the room at the end of the hall. This one was carpeted and getting in proved a bit of a struggle. Eventually squeezing herself through, she found a rather ornate room. It was empty but the large bookshelves attracted her attention.

She changed back to her usual human form as she walked quickly to the objects of interest. Her senses were on high alert, ready to shapeshift back to a mouse at the slightest hint of trouble. She took a sharp intake of breath as she noticed the language. She thought she recognized it although she certainly couldn't read it. It looked like ancient tevinter characters; Flemeth had once showed her something very much like this. Of course, the obvious question was why there were ancient tevinter manuscripts in a chantry but that could wait. She had more pressing matters to attend to. She was a mouse again as she struggled under the doorway and tried another door. The mouse froze. Morrigan could see Leliana leaning back in the only chair in the room. The bard's eyes were closed. She genuinely had no idea what to do from here.

Was it worth simply trying to kill Leliana? She doubted she would succeed even if she tried and she didn't really want to. Morrigan knew one thing for sure. Whatever was going to follow would hurt a lot. Maybe there was something to this idea of righting your wrongs. She wished there wasn't. She changed back to a human. The orlesian's eyes opened. They didn't snap open but gently flitted up to reveal the icy blue eyes. The witch wondered how long Leliana had already been aware of her presence, if she had been. If the bard was surprised, she hid it will.

"Hello Morrigan." Said Leliana with an amused smile as she got up. The black armor was on of course but to the witch's relief the daggers were nowhere to be seen. "Here to kill me?"

"No." Morrigan replied. It was a bit of a squeak actually. She thought it was quite pathetic of her. She swallowed, her throat was very dry.

Leliana moved far faster than the witch could have expected. The next thing she knew, she had been slammed somewhat painfully against the wall. One of the bard's hands was at her throat; the other held the witch's hands together. The orlesian's blue eyes glinted. The glint seemed almost… normal. Like she was just having fun. Morrigan didn't like where this was going.

"Sure?" The bard asked softly. "Lying is a bad habit you know."

The hand around her neck tightened just a bit. He witch was already struggling to escape but Leliana was a bit too strong. She let off a tiny jolt of lightning to get the bard away; she couldn't even talk in this position. As she feared, the magic caused no harm whatsoever and simply fizzled away. The bard merely giggled at her efforts.

"Zazikel's gift does have its use." Leliana murmured. The hand around Morrigan's throat loosened just a little. "Oh, I'm sorry. You were trying to say something?"

The witch glared into the Orlesian's mirthful eyes. Something had changed since the last encounter; she couldn't quite tell what it was. For better or worse, the bard seemed less… angry. She wondered what was worse, being killed quickly or being played with at least. The one thing that relieved her was that the Orlesian hadn't unleashed any of her newfound talents. Not yet anyway.

"I'm not here to kill you." The witch croaked, the hand around her throat was still a bit too tight. "Please trust me."

Leliana drew her forward and smacked her against the wall again. Morrigan bit her lip, a bit rattled.

"Like I trusted you before you poisoned me?" The bard asked. The witch couldn't really read those eyes.

"I'm sorry." Morrigan managed. "Truly."

Her reward was to be slammed hard against the wall one more time. The witch let out an involuntary murmur of pain.

"I'm sorry too." Leliana mocked. "That makes it all better, yes?"

"If you will not trust me, at least trust Alisa." The witch spoke with some difficulty. "At least speak to _her_."

"And where is she?"

"One of the demons injured her." Morrigan said, now with a touch of anger. "It came from one of your damn veil tears."

"Where was this?" Leliana asked plainly, her eyes flickering.

The witch relayed the location.

"Ah, I see." The orlesian said. "Are you a fool?"

The witch didn't reply. The whole thing had caught her somewhat off guard. She was about to snap back but it came to her in a moment. Perhaps the slight difficulty in breathing had slowed her thoughts. That veil tear wasn't like the others.

"If you didn't make that tear, then who did?" Morrigan managed, dreading the inevitable answer.

The bard drew her face very close to the witch. Their noses were almost touching.

"Do you _really _want me to answer that?" Leliana whispered.

Morrigan managed to shake her head. She felt herself pulled from the wall and spun around. A moment later she hit the wall again. She barely managed to turn her head and avoid having her nose broken. The bard was twisting her arm behind her back. The orlesian spoke softly in her ear. The witch's eyes were skewed shut, the bending arm hurt a lot.

"It isn't really whether I trust you. More of, why should I trust you?"

"To save the world?" The witch offered.

To her relief, or perhaps dread, Leliana laughed softly. "Mmm, that is true, no?" She said.

"Whose side are you on?" Morrigan asked through gritted teeth.

"That is not the question you should be asking." The bard breathed in her ear.

"Then what should I ask?" The witch snapped. The situation was frustrating her now and the pain wasn't helping.

"Do you want to know whose side I'm on or whose side I _want_ to be on?"

Well, things were beginning to make some sense to Morrigan. She wondered if it was the truth or just what Leliana wanted her to see. It came down to a matter of trust. And on the whole, that was really all she had.

"They control you?" The witch asked another question she didn't really want answered.

"Sometimes." The bard replied. The cold of the armor was an acute sensation against Morrigan's back.

"Right now?" Morrigan asked.

"What do you think?" Came the soft reply.

"I'm not dead yet." The witch managed.

"I guess it comes down to whether you will be in the next few minutes." Leliana murmured in a mirthful tone.

The bard let go of her as the witch turned around, somewhat relieved. What came next was getting a hard punch in the stomach. Morrigan doubled over in pain, it hadn't been gentle. Regardless, Leliana moved to simply kick her in the ribcage, knocking her to the ground.

"Do get up." The orlesian laughed. "I've seen you take a lot worse."

The witch got to her feet. To put it simply, she had had enough. Magic was essentially useless, so there wasn't much she had going for her. Regardless, she struck Leliana hard across the jaw. She couldn't help it any longer. She moved but took a hard hit near her lips. She could feel the armor cut in. Sure enough, her lip was bleeding somewhat badly. The bard rubbed her jaw a little, she was still smiling though. The witch realized that she might actually end up dead in the next few minutes. There really wasn't any easy avenue of escape.

Morrigan lunged but Leliana lightly moved out of the way before kicking the witch in the gut. She was a mage, not someone trained in close quarter combat. All she had going for her was that she was extremely angry now. She managed to get to her feet only to have the bard's fist connect solidly with her cheek, sending her sprawling again. She could feel blood flowing across the side of her face. She unleashed a large blaze of lightning, purely on instinct. It connected but essentially did nothing. No real surprises there. The witch was wondering how she even got that one hit in.

"Magic really won't do you any good." The bard giggled before striking her in the stomach. Morrigan's vision was blotching now, mostly from pain. "I could use it too but that wouldn't be fair."

The witch lashed out viciously. To her surprise, Leliana didn't move at all. Her hand connected hard across the orlesian's face. The bard didn't stumble but Morrigan could see a small trickle of blood on Leliana's cheek. So she was somewhat human, maybe mostly human. Just very powerful.

The bard grasped the witch at the back of her neck and kneed her in the stomach. The armor was really beginning to hurt now, she could feel the scrapes. The witch realized she wasn't going to be conscious for very long if things continued in this manner. She stumbled to her feet and struck again. Leliana didn't move. Eventually the bard began to stumble a bit as the witch lashed out without a care in the world. Her arms, especially her hands were getting sore. Sometimes she struck armor; sometimes she struck the Orlesian's face. She hardly cared anymore. Eventually Leliana simply grabbed her and slammed her face into the wall. Morrigan really didn't have the energy to keep this up. She simply collapsed on the floor in a heap and glanced up.

The bard healed her wounds with a click of her fingers and laughed softly. The witch knew she couldn't reach for a healing spell in her current state. Leliana laughed softly.

"It is good to work off some tension, yes?" She said mirthfully and made an offhand gesture.

Morrigan felt strength return to her limbs as she got up easily. She was honestly surprised. She knew the bard had healed her. Healed her completely with magic beyond that which is usually seen. For the life of her, she couldn't tell why. Speaking of life, she had been beaten to within an inch of her own. And then healed.

She could see the bard sitting in the chair, smiling as though nothing had happened. She gestured the witch to sit on the bed. Morrigan simply shook her head and stood her ground.

"What…?" She murmured.

"It's good to get rid of the anger sometimes." Leliana said simply. "Beat away the past and look ahead."

The two of them looked at each other for several moments in complete silence. Then the witch asked the important question.

"Whose side do you _want _to be on?"

"Why, with you, Alisa and the rest of them of course." The orlesian smirked.

"Then, will you come?" The witch asked awkwardly.

"Where?" Leliana asked, still grinning.

"Tis likely that Alisa will be at the circle tower. We can meet her and… decide things…"

"You really do not know what is going on, do you?"

"Maybe you could shed some light on that." Morrigan snapped.

"I certainly could. Maybe I should." The bard rhymed. Her tone changed a bit. "But will I?"

"Since when did you begin to speak in riddles?" The witch muttered.

"Since it began to aggravate you." Leliana shot back. "Before I make my decision, answer me one thing Morrigan. Whether or not I come with you, it is more than likely everything will burn. Why should I come with you?"

"Because of what you told me one night." Morrigan replied. "Because the starts always shine like-"

"Like diamonds in the sky." The bard finished. "You remember."

The witch nodded. Leliana gave her an honest, genuine smile. It was almost just like the old her. Except the unusual armor, the unbelievable beauty and longer hair of course.

"Alright." The bard said as she got up. "I'm willing to accompany you. I must warn you though, there is a chance of me killing you."

"And a chance of me killing you." Morrigan murmured under her breath but Leliana heard it.

She drew close to the witch.

"That should make for an exciting trip, yes?" She whispered before turning and opening the door.

"Why _did _you do that?" Morrigan questioned as she followed the Orlesian out a moment later.

"Do what?"

"Strike me."

"Strike you?" Leliana giggled. "I almost beat you to death."

"_Why_?" The witch hissed.

"I already told you." The bard replied simply before beginning to walk down the hallway.

"Are there others here?"

"They probably won't see us." The Orlesian muttered. "Even if they did, they can hardly stop me."

The trip to the doors of the chantry was short and they weren't noticed. Although, Morrigan couldn't help but glance from side to side. Leliana pushed open the doors and walked into the waning light of the evening sun. She flicked her hand and the demons that had turned around were incinerated in a flame that was mostly colorless with a hint of blue. The gaping veil tear in front of the chantry sealed shut in less than a second.

"That was… impressive." Morrigan said as the doors shut behind her.

The bard spoke in a voice that was perhaps a little sad. "The blessings of the old gods may be a curse but when they promise power, they grant it."

She continued on with the witch following silently behind, still trying to piece together what had just happened.

"The stars will be out soon." The bard said. "Like diamonds in the sky."

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"That was… unexpected." Razikale says, frustration apparent in her voice.

"What happened?" Dumat asks in a dangerous tone.

"I… do not know." The clear voice responds.

"Why did you not influence her?" Toth demands.

"I could not." Razikale replies. "Too little of the hate and anger."

"We should have acted when she was attacking the witch." Urthemiel sings.

"I thought she would kill her for certain." Razikale murmurs.

"Are you saying she was simply burning away her rage to escape our influence?" Andoral's voice grates.

"She is abusing _our_ restrictions for _her _benefit!" Lucasan barks.

"I warned you to be careful with her." Dumat says.

"Either way, she will not stop using the powers at least." Zazikel says. "She will still release us, no matter whose side she is on."

"It is, nonetheless, an inconvenience." The voice of silence says.

"Perhaps we are… missing something." Urthemiel says.

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The dread wolf is expecting visitors soon. But his thoughts currently reside elsewhere. The world is _breaking_. Something must be done. Otherwise the dragon lord will crush the world like an insect beneath his gargantuan feet. Fen'harel wonders if it is too late, if time has run out. Not yet, not for a while. His thoughts do not dwell at all on the other dragons. Fire, chaos, magic, darkness, chains and enthralling beauty can be fought and resisted.

How does one fight death? How does one fight utter, complete desolation and absence? How does one fight the end?

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_Author's Note: Well, that was... unusual? Do tell me what you thought. Some of the things mentioned here shall be cleared up in good time as shall past events that I reference once in a way. I do hope you liked it. Next update: soon._

_To my reviewers:_

_Nightwish11606: Thanks so much! Also, this chapter should have answered several of those questions. Flemeth and Alisa shall be dealt with next time :)_


	20. Oblivion

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Ah, such a pleasant chapter name. Due to this excess of pleasantness, allow me to throw out a minor general warning for this chapter. Nothing graphic though. I hope you like the chapter and do leave your feedback._

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Chapter 20 – Oblivion

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Most people seek power, in one form or another. It is an addicting thing, after all. People go so far for the promise of it. And when some things are a lie, it only becomes worse. Alas, but who is the liar? And who is the seeker? But in the face of utter silence, people make sacrifices as well. Even gods consider making compromises. Some were willing to do what was needed. The only question worth asking then is whether it was enough? Time shall tell as fate rolls its billion sided dice, where each side has a billion choices too. Another silly analogy to discuss free will and fate. And maybe, a little bit of luck.

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The wind whistled gently through the trees. It was certainly an awkward moment to be staring into the eyes of someone you had killed somewhat recently. Alisa got a hold of herself soon enough. Morrigan had warned her that Flemeth wasn't really gone. The warden never really saw how, until now. The only thing left to do was speak.

"You're supposed to dead." Alisa said flatly.

Flemeth laughed boisterously before responding. "Didn't dear Morrigan tell you I wouldn't die so easily?"

"She also told me about how you intended to posses her body." The warden shot back. Lance thought it wise to keep out of this conversation for the moment.

"Why, of course she would say that." The old woman said. "But if in your eyes I tried to trick her then you must understand that she had been keeping things from you as well."

"What do you mean?" Alisa asked hesitantly. She had never really _hated _Flemeth so to say. She had done it for Morrigan and because the old shapeshifter's intentions did seem somewhat malign.

"Didn't you know that when a grey warden kills an archdemon, their life is taken as well? And that is why the wardens are needed."

The warden just stared at Flemeth dumbfounded. "Why?" She muttered.

"You see, when an archdemon dies its spirit simply seeks out the nearest darkspawn. That makes the beast all but immortal. You wardens carry the taint as well and thus the spirit of the beast seeks out your bodies. Since, unlike the darkspawn, you are not soulless, the two spirits annihilate each other." The old woman said plainly. "Of course, the spirits of the old gods are not really that easy to destroy. And now there are no more archdemons either. So our little discussion was essentially pointless."

"No more archdemons?" Alisa managed as she tried to put together all the information given to her.

"Leliana's deal has seen to that." Flemeth said bitterly. "The curse is broken, warden. No more blights, ever."

"Where do you and Morrigan come into this?" Lance asked, distrust visible in his eyes.

"I have... spoken with the old gods before." The shapeshifter said. "They had a plan before this as well. I contacted them a fairly long time back."

"Why?" The warden asked.

"Why, for power of course." Flemeth said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "There is nothing else that truly matters. They taught me ritual, they told me their intentions. When a blight fell upon the land I was to enact the ritual. It only so happens that I wished Morrigan to do it instead."

"What ritual?" The blond mage asked through gritted teeth.

"A ritual to be performed before the battle in which the archdemon died. A ritual to produce a child from a grey warden." She answered. "And when the archdemon died, its spirit would seek out the child. That child however would be born with the untainted soul of an old god. The intention was to bring one of them into the world."

"I actually trusted you and let you heal her." Lance murmured. "You're just one of their damned slaves!"

"Be quiet, boy." Flemeth snapped. "I have been betrayed as well."

"What did you gain out of any of this?" Alisa asked softly.

"You know me well enough then." The old woman laughed. "I was promised unimaginable power if I could succeed in this."

"You mean like what Leliana got?"

"Far more, warden. Far more than you can even comprehend." Flemeth's eyes flashed.

"And what power is this?" Lance asked.

"It matters not." The old woman replied. "As I said, I have been betrayed. They seek their freedom by other means. And it is close."

"You deserve it." The blond mage muttered.

"Why did you heal me?" Alisa asked.

"The same reason I healed you last time." Flemeth said plainly. "I require your assistance."

"And you won't get it." The warden said as she rose.

"You speak as though you have a choice." The shapeshifter laughed. "The end is looming and I am the only one who can help you stop it."

"And why is that?" Alisa asked in a dangerous tone, raising her staff.

"The only way to fight gods is with gods." Flemeth said.

"I was wondering where your riddles went." Alisa muttered.

"There is no time for riddles now." The shapeshifter said bitterly. "Not when I have no control of the situation. What I mean, warden, is that you can fight the power of the old gods with the help of the elven gods."

"You have got to be joking." Lance said.

"If you can believe in the tevinter gods, then why not the elven ones?" Flemeth asked. "Besides I can give you as much proof as you want. If you would follow me to the fade right now."

"I do _not_ trust you." The warden said flatly.

"It is not a matter of trust, warden." The shapeshifter replied. "It is a matter of what must be done."

"How did you survive?" Lance asked. "You never answered Alisa."

"Why, by switching bodies of course." Flemeth responded. "Now please, accompany me."

"We can't just leave our bodies here in the open and waltz into the fade." Lance muttered. "Too dangerous."

"There is an easy way to make your corporeal form ethereal." The shapeshifter replied. "Do you accept?"

Alisa narrowed her eyes as she stared at Flemeth.

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Morrigan walked through the forest beside Leliana. Night had fallen and they navigated their path with the help of the colourless flame burning in the bard's palm. To the witch's surprise, the orlesian had spoken to her in a friendly and casual manner. Although the teasing and jibes had yet to stop. To be expected, Morrigan thought it was a form of payback. They came upon a small clearing and the witch stopped.

"We should get some sleep." She said.

"We should take turns, of course. So that one can keep watch." Leliana replied. "Unless you want to snuggle under the moonlight..."

The witch glared at the smiling woman before shaking her head. "The first alternative will do fine. I shall take first watch."

The bard nodded before transferring the flame in her hand onto a pile of sticks she had made. She settled on the ground and closed her eyes. Morrigan, of course, was unaware of how little Leliana slept these days. Sleep only brought nightmares.

The witch sat by the fire, warming herself for some time. She remembered that she was still carrying the small knife she used to chop herbs. She smiled wanly as she thought it might have been more useful a few hours ago when she was fighting for her life. She held it in her hands as she considered the obvious. Leliana was asleep, she had a dagger. Could they trust the bard? Was she just fooling them? But then, Morrigan would be betraying the trust she had asked Leliana to have.

She got up and stood beside the orlesian's sleeping form. She thought for a few moments longer before eventually deciding that it wasn't worth it. She moved to tuck the dagger back but Leliana was up in an instant. She found her hand twisted as she dropped the dagger and yelped in pain and surprise. And then she was pinned face first against a tree. It seemed that the bard wasn't asleep after all.

"An exciting trip already, yes?" Leliana whispered behind her.

"I was not going to do it and you damn well know it." The witch snapped through gritted teeth.

The bard brought her mouth extremely close to the witch's ear. "Mm, I know." She said softly, her breath warm. "But this is enjoyable, no?"

"No." Morrigan hissed. She froze for a moment when Leliana lightly nipped at her ears. The witch was ready to swear a million oaths of painful death upon her. And she would have if she had not been silenced by the bard kissing her neck lightly, following that by biting a little. Her body shuddered involuntarily.

"A little torture is good for you." The bard said as she let go of the witch and backed away.

Morrigan turned around and attempted to strike Leliana across the face, only to have her dance out of the way.

"I will kill you for that." The witch muttered. "Why in damnation did you do it?"

"A little excitement, a little payback." The bard smirked, and then her expression softened. "I'm sorry if it was too much."

"Sometimes I wonder if you have changed." Morrigan murmured.

"I have, I'm afraid. I can't really look at the world the same way again." Leliana said with a somewhat sad smile. "Razikale's blessing included knowledge. More than I ever wanted, perhaps more than what is good for us. Go to sleep Morrigan. I'll keep watch."

"If you think I trust you after that..."

"Worried that I'll... take advantage of you?"

"Killing you is becoming more tempting by the second." The witch snapped but she lay down nonetheless. She was exhausted. She also wondered when Leliana would finally be done with this. She assumed it was some twisted form of revenge.

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Alisa stared in shock and awe at the massive, dark form before her. The strangeness of the fade around her was completely ignored as she stared at the being that seemed to defy description. It brought with it a feeling of dread, worry and fear. Above that, an aura of power that made her shudder. There was little doubt that she was looking at a god. The best description that came to her was... wolf. And that meant Flemeth had done good on her promise to show them a god. She glanced to her side to see Lance as enraptured as she was. Flemeth seemed significantly less shaken. She retained the familiar form of an old woman in the fade. Alisa had feared she would have seen a demon instead.

The great being before them coalesced and took a form more comfortable on their eyes. The shaggy, black wolf moved forward with perfect elegance. The warden noticed that the wolf was significantly larger than she was. Those eyes were difficult to look into. They had no colour, only endless depth.

"A demon and human spirit in a symbiotic bond?" The god spoke in a majestic voice as it glanced at the shapeshifter. "You are a unique creature... Flemeth."

The old woman bowed her head deeply as Lance and Alisa mimicked her.

"Are you Fen'harel, the great wolf?" Flemeth asked with reverence. Alisa couldn't tell if she was faking it.

"Why not call me the dread wolf, the lord of tricksters, the bringer of nightmares?" The wolf's voice echoed. "Why have you sought my presence? I wish you to answer, even though I am aware of your purpose."

"The old gods can't be let free." Alisa blurted.

"We request your assistance, mighty one." Flemeth followed up hastily before shooting the warden a quick glare.

"And why should I aid you?" Fen'harel replied. "Are you even aware of what awaits the world if dragon gods are freed?"

Alisa shivered at the sound of the god's voice before replying. "We have seen it, great wolf."

"The spirit of Eleni Zinovia was kind and merciful." The dread wolf replied before he bore his teeth. "This nightmare is for you alone, Alisa Surana. Witness the end."

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The scene before her eyes had changed. A vision from the harbinger of nightmares? Alisa did not think she would enjoy what was to come. The first thing she noticed was that the sky was completely, utterly black. The moon itself could not be seen, let alone a single star. The scene on the ground was, to her surprise, fairly visible. And then she realized where the light came from.

All of Redcliffe was burning in colourless flames. The flames of Toth. She could see humans and demons alike burning in the streets. She saw chains grasping for life like sentient entities. Screams drowned out all other sounds as the last few living souls in the village were snuffed out. She tore her gaze to the castle gates and her thoughts caught as she gasped. She would have cried if she had the time. Arl Eamon, Arlessa Isolde, Bann Teagan, all hung nude and mutilated from the castle gates. The hung from Andoral's damned chains. The castle burnt as she saw the great form of Toth land upon the castle, or rather through it. The burning structure collapsed under his weight. Andoral soared through the sky before descending upon the village. She looked up and in the darkness she saw the glowing white eyes of Dumat.

The scene changed, although it took a moment for her to see it. The circle tower was in much the same state. What shocked her though was that apart from the docks and the trees, the lake was burning in eerie green flames. The damned water was burning. The source was obvious in a minute. Razikale tore through the circle tower with a blaze of magic as the ancient structure collapse. She saw mages and young apprentices fall from the debris into the burning lake. Urthemiel swooped past, grasping the falling in his maw. She looked up again and into the glowing white eyes of Dumat.

The scene changed once more. She choked as she saw that the underground city of Orzammar had been exposed to the outside. Zazikel hovered above the enormous crater as everything around him burnt. Most of the great dwarven city was rubble, crushed under tons of rock. She could see a small mull of figures still inside the cracking streets of the city. And they fought each other. Under Zazikel's accursed influence, the last of the dwarves in Orzammar beat each other to death. Alisa looked into the sky to find the glowing white eyes of Dumat.

The scene changed once more. Denerim as well then. The warden had had enough and yet she couldn't end the vision. She had to watch. Lucasan tore through the great city's burning remains casually and without a care. Alisa had got the point, she wished it would end. The sky, so damned black.

"What's wrong with the sky?" She murmured pointlessly. To her surprise, an answer came in the voice of Fen'harel.

"Alisa Surana, that is not the sky."

She looked up. The glowing white eyes of Dumat. _By the creators... it couldn't be-_

It hit her then. She did what anyone in her position would have done. She screamed.

A titanic pair of jaws opened near the eyes and what looked to be pure shadow burst forth. The fade dissolved, Thedas snapped like a twig. The world collapsed till it was torn down to the very fabric of creation. Alisa awoke with the dragon lord's laugh ringing in her ears.

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_Author's Note: Right, no more terrifying visions of apocalypse for a while. And several slightly unusual events and a bit of a time gap that I shall get back to in due time. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Do leave your feedback. Next update might get delayed but I hope not._

_To my reviewers:_

_Nightwish11606: Thanks! Ah, Leliana and Morrigan. Let us see where we end up. The dread wolf's actions shall come to light soon. As for Flemeth and Morrigan, we shall see in good time ;)_

_Lehni: Thanks so much! I agree, I could see Lel doing that in her pre-chantry days too. I hope you continue to enjoy what I have planned._

_interesting2125: Thanks for the review! Morrigan's motivations... hm.. Well, no archdemon means no god baby but I wonder what will happen if she is given the opportunity to have power of a different sort. That may or may not happen (yeah, I'm not fooling anybody). But yeah, I always found Morrigan to be a very strong character and I tried to translate that as best I could. Hope you enjoy where I go with this._


	21. Cleansing

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: I apologize for the slight delay on this chapter but I've been a bit busy for the past few days. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one. Do leave your thoughts._

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Chapter 21 – Cleansing

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Across Ferelden, chantries fell. That religion was being slowly and systematically destroyed by the old gods' orders. A new system was taking hold, a system of fear and ritual sacrifice. A system that had not existed since the young days of the world. And the people of Ferelden prayed, they prayed to the Maker till their throats ran dry. They prayed till they were forced to lick the stone feet of the dragon statues they had been forced to build. They prayed till the demons fed on their families, they prayed till their homes burnt to ash. And not a single prayer was answered. The horrendous pain only continued. Even if the demons were driven away and the temples and statues smashed, would the chantry ever find a foothold again? How many had lost faith forever? Perhaps the chantry may never find its place again. But is that a bad thing?

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Alisa tried to calm herself after the horrors she had witnessed. By the creators, she had seen the end of the damned world. She hugged Lance back as he comfortingly stroked her hair. Her eyes were skewed shut, she could not see if there was any reaction on Fen'harel's features.

"What happened?" Lance asked.

"Vision." The warden muttered.

"Oh Maker." Her friend murmured. "What did you see?"

"Too much." She said softly as she moved from his grasp and turned.

The dread wolf looked straight at her, those deep eyes were hypnotizing. Flemeth looked curious more than anything else.

"What was that?" Alisa demanded, now unconcerned that she was addressing a god. "How could Dumat cover the entire damned sky?"

Lance gasped and Flemeth looked visibly shaken at the implications.

"Be humbled, young elf." The dread wolf growled. "You have looked upon the true form of the dragon lord. It is far too great for you to comprehend."

"What do you mean, true form?"

"Do you truly believe that this is what gods are?" Fen'harel says, no emotion yet apparent in his voice. "That I am a wolf and that they are dragons? We are _gods _mortal."

The dread wolf's already impressive form grew far larger. It barely resembled a wolf. It was a massive shadow that eclipsed the fade. The barriers of reality threatened to break as Fen'harel ceased his change at the brink. Alisa did not feel the nightmares she expected, not the pain of Dumat's presence. There was only a sense of _awe_. The shadow contracted and the wolf was back before her. Alisa, Lance and even Flemeth quivered slightly from the dread wolf's true form. Or as close to it as he was willing to go. The warden tactfully changed the topic.

"At the end of the vision…" She said after a lengthy pause. "What happened?"

"The world was eradicated. Torn down to the very sparks of creation." The wolf growled.

"I don't understand." Alisa said softly. "What do they gain from that? What good does it do them to destroy the world?"

"That, young one, is an answer I seek as well." Fen'harel says plainly. "Dumat's purpose still eludes me."

Flemeth, who had been silent for some time, spoke up. "Will you aid us, great one?" She asked flatly.

"And what aid do you seek?"

"We must prepare for an eventuality where the dragons are released." The shapeshifter said. "If you could release the other elven gods, we could fight them."

"You must be aware that I was responsible for sealing them away." The dread wolf growled in response. "They were locked away for a reason."

"So were the old gods." Lance murmured.

Fen'harel shot the blond mage a look, causing him to almost trip and fall over.

"Well spoken, human." The wolf said. "Only a mortal may unlock their prisons."

"Why can't you?" Alisa asked.

"I cannot for that was how I built them." Fen'harel replied. "To resist temptation."

"You two could do it." Flemeth said plainly. "And you have little choice. This is the only way we stand a chance."

"I may lead you to their prisons but it will not be easy to unlock them." The dread wolf said.

"What does that mean?" Lance asked but Fen'harel kept his silence.

The dread wolf spoke a few moments later. "I do not have time for your deliberations. Agree or leave."

"Fine." Alisa said in a resigned voice. "We'll do it but how do I know you'll keep your word? What if you decided to crush the world instead?"

"We despise the dragons far more than you." The dread wolf replied. "If we are victorious, then it is a matter of trust. Would you put your faith in us or in the dragons? And know, you cannot win without us."

"We really don't have a choice do we?" Lance whispered.

"_Damned gods_!" The warden spat. "Fine, what now?"

"Go with him then warden." The shapeshifter said. "I have other matters to attend to as well."

"You're going? Great." Lance muttered.

"We have to secure a victory." Flemeth snapped. "I will do what is needed."

"Know one thing before you go." The dread wolf growled. "We will fight the dragons for the preservation of the world. We will fight six of them together and with assistance we may even prevail. But be aware, if the dragon lord is released then we see no point in continuing the battle."

"What?" Alisa asked in outrage. "Why not?"

"Dumat is…" Fen'harel seemed to hesitate for a few seconds. It was unusual to see a god hesitate. "The greatest of the Maker's children. He is beyond our collective capacity to contain. And Flemeth, I know what you intend."

"Will you stop me?" The shapehifter asked, somewhat worriedly.

"I will not stop you from performing something I do not yet comprehend." The dread wolf said simply. "But should it threaten us or the world, then I shall consume you."

Flemeth nodded before vanishing from the fade. Fen'harel looked Alisa in the eye. A voice echoed in the warden's mind.

"_You are a grey warden, Alisa Surana. And yet, never again shall there be a blight. Once broken, the curse is forever broken. The warden's have no further purpose in the world. Tell me, what do you think?"_

It was undoubtedly the voice of Fen'harel. She replied with the thoughts in her mind.

"_Being a grey warden is not just about fighting darkspawn and stopping blights. We exist to protect people as well. Being a grey warden isn't just about the taint, it's about what you see it as. To help the world."_

"Fascinating." The dread wolf said with no emotion as he turned and began to walk away. "Follow, if it pleases you."

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Morrigan trudged through the forest closely behind Leliana. The birds still sang here, the trees still rustled in the wind and the animals still loped through their home. A small part of Ferelden that was not marred by the presence of a veil tear. The witch would never admit it but she was getting somewhat tired. They hadn't stopped a single time since morning and evening would soon fall. And in the middle of that, Leliana had taken a bit of a detour to close one of the veil tears she was aware of. Morrigan had helped fight the demons, not that it had been needed. She wasn't used to feeling ineffectual of all things. And yet, the bard's magic now dwarfed her own. Not to mention that the orlesian was a skilled combatant as well. And she had been getting on the witch's nerves for a good amount of time now. Leliana stopped and turned around with a smile on her face.

"Would you like to take a rest? You only need to ask."

"I can keep going." Morrigan snapped.

"If you are trying to match my stamina you will likely not succeed." The bard smirked. "Not since the changes anyway."

"Fine." The witch mumbled before settling herself on a rock.

Leliana pulled one of her black daggers from a slot in her armor which Morrigan hadn't noticed. The bard turned and eyed a bush carefully. A rabbit ventured its head out, to its demise. The orlesian fetched the beast back before making a fire.

"You had the daggers all along…" Morrigan said. "Why did you not use them in the chantry?"

"You are assuming I wanted to kill you." The bard laughed. "That is most certainly not the case."

The witch stayed silent but accepted the meat Leliana handed to her.

"Why have you been behaving so strangely with me?" The witch suddenly asked.

"Is it so different from the disdain you treated me with?" The orlesian asked as she locked eyes with the witch.

Morrigan paused for several moments. "I'm… sorry." She muttered.

"A hard word to use genuinely, yes?" Leliana asked. "Why did you suddenly become cold to me again? Why did you poison me? We were beginning to get along."

The witch nodded, there was no point disagreeing. They had been getting along better till she had… changed her mind.

"We were hardly friends." Morrigan said tartly.

"We could have been and you are dodging the question." The bard shot back.

The witch decided that there was no further use in hiding any of this. Sometimes it was better to simply settle things.

"I was… jealous." She muttered.

"Jealous?" Leliana said with some mirth. "Of what?"

"Your relationship with Alisa." Morrigan replied.

"Ah Morrigan." The bard replied shaking her head. "Maybe there was a better solution than poisoning me, yes?"

"I already apologized and I meant it." The witch said.

"Would you beg and kiss my feet?" Leliana smiled.

"Be quiet." Morrigan snapped. "Tis frustrating enough that I cannot threaten to turn you ashes."

"But I can." The orlesian said softly as a colorless, faintly blue flamed appeared in the palm of her hand.

"You will not do it." The witch said flatly.

"Sure?" Leliana asked as she brought the flame extremely close to Morrigan's face.

"Do it."

The bard snuffed out the flame and laughed softly. "See, we are getting along better already."

She snuffed out the fire and turned to leave as the witch followed.

"If this is getting along, then I would rather not." Morrigan muttered.

They walked some distance before Leliana paused again.

"There is a town nearby with a veil tear." She said. "I have been thinking; I believe I can close all the tears with access to one."

"Why did you not do this earlier?" The witch asked.

"I did not think it possible." The bard replied. "I am still unsure but we shall see."

Morrigan followed Leliana as she changed her course. While getting to the circle tower quickly was a priority, this opportunity was far too good to pass up. If they could close all the veil tears, things would be a lot easier. The witch had questioned Leliana on what was going on but had received no answers. The bard merely said that she would tell them later, when they were together with the others. Morrigan did not like being kept in the dark but she could hardly pressure the orlesian for information. In fact during the course of the journey, she was the one being pressured to talk.

They walked for a good amount of time till night was falling. The forests slowly changed to fields and farms. Burnt fields and farms. Ash still hung in the air as Morrigan looked at the chaotic scene before her.

"This is all my fault it would seem." Leliana said sadly as she advanced down the road they had found themselves on.

"Please do not tell me that you are going to go into depression." Morrigan muttered.

"I have had enough time to be depressed and get over it." The bard replied softly. "Fixing things is usually better than killing yourself."

The witch made no further response but prepared herself as they neared the gate. Two revenants stood guard and Morrigan could make out to enormous pride demon silhouettes within the village. Lightning burst from the bard's hands as the demons readied themselves only to be brought down in seconds. The witch noticed the two hanging bodies on the gate as they strode into the village where Leliana dragged her into the shadows.

The small town was a scene of horror. Demons strode through the town, supervising tortured citizens as they built some sort of building. In front of it, several were working on what she assumed was a dragon statue. She could hear voices in the shed next to her. She turned to the bard who was already approaching the entrance where a desire demon stood. The orlesian's daggers flashed for a minute as the demon fell, after which she smashed open the door. Morrigan followed her in and almost gagged at the excessive smell of rotting flesh. Even Leliana looked uncomfortable.

Dead, half eaten rats lay scattered across the floor of the small room. There was a man in one corner of the room who was muttering indecipherably to himself. He witch could here shouts, the demons probably knew they were hear by now. The man's face was covered in fresh wounds, as was his body. Many of them were fresh in still bleeding. He looked delirious.

"P-please no more, p-p-please." He cried. "I'll d-do anything b-but not that. Stop!"

The bard gently healed his wounds with an expressionless face.

"Who are you?" She asked gently.

"M-m-marcus. I'll answer anything. P-p-please d-don't hurt me. PLEASE!" He screeched and stuttered.

"He's gone Leliana." The witch said. "The demons must have… tortured him into this state."

"They will pay." Leliana hissed in a tone that made Morrigan shiver. She strode out of the shed with bluish fire burning in her palms.

The witch rushed out after her but fell back under the searing heat. It was the most beautiful, majestic and terrifying display of magic Morrigan had ever seen. The flames spiraled into the sky casting the entire village into an eerie light from a ghostly sun. The great ball of fire burst into dozens of dragons. The dragons of flame flew down upon the village, burning the demons to ash. The flames in Leliana's hands spewed forth a group of fire soldiers that worked to cleanse the village further. Yet for all its majesty and terror, it was the most controlled display of magic the witch could remember. Not a single villager was burnt, not a building caught fire. The size of the miniature fire dragons was just right. The bard's eyes were now closed, a look of intense concentration on her face.

"Toth's flames truly are unique." Morrigan murmured.

When all the demons were ash, all that remained was a single arcane horror who stood before the statue that was being built. The villagers were screaming since they didn't understand what was happening. The flames coalesced into a single giant dragon that grasped the arcane horror in its talons.

"Die at the hands of those you serve." Leliana called as the arcane horror burnt to ash and the fire dissipated.

The bard then collapsed to her knees, breathing heavily. Morrigan helped her up as Leliana gave her smile.

"That was… incredible." The witch said softly.

"If Morrigan is complimenting me, then something must have gone well." The orlesian smiled. "Maker, that was exhausting though."

"Why did you go that far?" Morrigan snapped. "You could have made do with so much less. Why all the show?"

"The show was for any dragon gods who might be watching." Leliana replied. "Let's see what we can do about these veil tears."

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"She will seal all the tears." Zazikel barks.

"You must admit, her control over her powers has grown impressive." Razikale says offhandedly. "Almost as if the witch is bringing out the best in her."

"That is concerning." Toth says.

"Not quite." Razikale replies. "It doesn't matter. Not _really_."

"What about the veil tears?" Lucasan presses. "Without those, we have no agents in their world now that Leliana has betrayed us."

"That mediocre display of magic has greatly widened the cracks in our prison." Dumat's voice echoes. "Razikale, can your energy leak into the fade?"

"Easily." The clear voice responds after a moment.

"Then let her seal the tears." Dumat says. "Then, Razikale, rip the veil open from this side yourself. If she thinks she can end this so easily, then she is gravely mistaken."

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_Author's Note: Well, I hope you like the chapter. Do leave your feedback. Next update should be soon._

_To my reviewers:_

_Nightwish11606: Thanks! As for Leliana and Morrigan? We shall wait and see, they'll get focused on for a while now... I think. Glad you liked the scene with Dumat!_

_interesting2125: Thanks for the review! And there shall certainly be more visions of doom, but after a bit of a break. Fen'harel should be around for a good while. The reversal of roles is kind of what I was going for. Just thought it would be an interesting thing to write. Hope you like where this goes!_


	22. The Mother of the Halla

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Well, here's the next installment. I hope you enjoy it and do leave your feedback._

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Chapter 22 – The Mother of the Halla

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Stories tell the truth and stories lie. Most myth can be found grounded in some reality. The stories of the gods are much the same. Stories about them are old to inspire, justify, comfort and even manipulate. Why should the old gods die when the archdemons die? To justify the strength of the Maker's curse, to comfort that the things that go bump in the night are not immortal. Why did the elves tell stories of evil, forgotten gods? Gods that warred with the creators. There was a war among the gods, a war between the old gods and the elven gods. And that was the cold hard truth from which two tales branched away from each other, never to touch again. Fen'harel sealed away the creators and the dragons were sealed away separately. Easy to call them forgotten ones and blame the dread wolf for it all, you see?

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Lance walked alongside Alisa as they silently followed Fen'harel through the fade. He had lost all sense of direction by this time. Time and again they had walked through portals concocted by the dread wolf. The fade was subtly changing around them. To the mage's surprise things became somewhat less chaotic, more organized. The fade was what it was because the entities that made it their own did not shape it in accordance with how mortals saw the world. The wolf led them towards a portal housed beneath a magnificent arch, decorated with elven writing.

"What is this?" Alisa asked softly.

"The prisons were shaped for mortals to see." Fen'harel responded. "For they are the only ones who can unlock them."

"Do you mean mortals or elves?" Lance asked. Surprisingly, he did not feel frightened by the wolf. Awed, certainly but he had felt true fear only when the god had threatened to display his true form. He could only theorize but he guessed that a god's vibes were powerful.

Fen'harel stopped and arched his head back elegantly to look the blond mage in the eye. "Humans, elves, dwarves, qunari, you mortals are largely the same to us. Ephemeral, transient spirits. Yet we favor based on prayer. And we became the gods of the elves by mortal design. You see, gods have egos that need stroking."

The last statement was accentuated with a growl that made Lance shiver. The dread wolf continued, once again in his unreadable tone.

"Within is sealed Ghilan'nain, the mother of Halla." He said.

"But the story says that-" Alisa began.

"Not all stories are true, Alisa Surana." Fen'harel cut her off. "Ghilan'nain was merely another of the Maker's creations but formed a bond with Andruil. And then, she was welcomed among us. She created the Halla, she did not become them."

"I guess not all legends are true." Lance murmured as he followed the wolf through the portal.

They found themselves at the edge of a large square field of grass. It floated in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the blotchy colors of the fade. At the opposite end was a wall that stretched far beyond the platform they were standing upon. The mage would have sworn it extended endlessly in every direction. It hurt the eyes to try and follow its endless dimension. It was made of clean, white marble. Within it was set a circle made of brown rock. It was slightly larger than them, but quite clearly a door of some form.

The field itself was unusual to say the least. Every single blade of grass was the same height and they were spread uniformly across the square platform. A single plate of green. It crunched softly under his feet as he took a step forward to stand beside the warden.

"What now?" She asked softly.

"Place your hand upon the door and break it." The dread wolf replied evenly.

"That's it?" Alisa asked skeptically.

In response Fen'harel bared his teeth, something between a threatening gesture and a disconcerting smile. The two of them set off across the grass plain slowly, their eyes darting.

"It's odd that we're talking to a god in a calm manner." Lance mused, his eyes still flitting.

"I've practically gotten used to odd things by now." Alisa muttered as Lance smiled wanly. She suddenly stopped, her voice taking on an edge. "Um, Lance, look over there."

He glanced in the direction her finger was pointing and froze. In the corner of the field there was a little girl. She didn't look to be any older than five or six. Her hair was a simple black and she wore a small, pretty green dress.

"That can't possibly be a child." Lance said flatly. "What is it?"

He glanced back to the portal. He could barely make out the wolf's form in the shadows. It didn't look like Fen'harel had anything to say as the little girl skipped towards them and stopped a few feet away with a wide, innocent smile. Her eyes were brown, innocent and trusting.

"Mommy!" She squealed, staring at Alisa who stumbled back several steps. She clapped her hands and giggled. "Mommy's back! I'm hungry… and thirsty. I want some milk mommy."

"What do we do?" The warden breathed. "I have no idea what this thing is."

The little girl pouted and began to sob. "Now mommy, now! I want milk!" She screeched as she jumped up and down on the spot.

"I… I don't know." Lance replied awkwardly.

"I'm _hungry_!" The girl's squeal was now almost a roar. She stopped crying and grinned widely. "Look how big my teeth are mommy!"

Lance wanted to scream at that moment but preservation took priority. The girl's mouth was much too big and filled with sharp needle like fangs. She leapt at Alisa with surprising agility. The warden dove out of the way as the beast gnashed its teeth.

"You'll help me, won't you daddy?" She roared as she assaulted Lance.

He released a wave of fire that hardly seemed to affect the beast. The clothes burnt away, revealing horrifically charred and almost darkspawn-like skin. The nails on her hands grew to dangerous lengths as she lashed out like a wild animal.

"Food, food, food!" She screamed as she jumped between the two of them. Alisa let loose a blaze of lightning which seemed to keep the beast down for a while but it slowly closed the distance. It slashed Alisa'a arm with its claws, causing her to yelp in pain. Lance struck the creature with a fireball. It fell to the ground and sank its jagged teeth into the warden's leg, inciting a scream. Eventually, the electricity knocked it back several paces. It liked its bloody mouth.

"Mommy's so tasty!" It shrieked. "I want _more_!"

A series of fireballs brought it down before it could get close to either of them. It growled pathetically as it writhed on the ground. It looked up and snarled.

"Tainted baby!" It yelled gleefully. "Just like _you_!"

Another fireball knocked it out. The body disintegrated into simple white sparks that faded away. Lance set to work on healing Alisa's leg. His friend didn't look too shaken, thank god. The warden healed the cut on her arm as she snapped her head towards Fen'harel who had emerged from the shadows and prowled into the field.

"What in damnation was that?" She demanded.

"Guardian magic." The wolf said. "I created it as a safeguard."

"But no one could get her without your portals." Lance shot back. "If any mortals do get here, it's by your design. Why try to kill them?"

"It would be far too arrogant for me to believe I am the only one who can find this place." Fen'harel growled.

"Then why didn't you disable it for us?" Alisa kept up the barrage of questions.

"You must prove yourselves." The dread wolf snarled. "If you seek our aid you must earn it."

"A little demonic girl?" Lance said flatly. "That's sick."

Fen'harel seemed to smile. "The guardian magic has no true corporeal form. Its form is drawn from _your _subconscious fears. One of yours at the least."

"I don't recognize it." Alisa said as Lance agreed.

"You do not always remember the nightmares that keep you awake." The wolf said. "Enough, unseal the gate."

The warden glared at the god for a moment as she turned and walked towards the door. Lance followed and watched as the elf placed her hand upon the door. It seemed to give way easily and crumbled to dust. Alisa back away as a figure emerged.

It looked surprisingly normal. Like any ordinary person. It was only the aura of energy around the woman that gave away the presence of a god. She wore a cream colored robe that was startlingly beautiful. She was tall, with green eyes and a lovely face. She wore her dark brown hair in a bun. Her eyes were so warm that Lance thought her might melt. He reminded himself that she was a goddess and he had no desire to see her true form. Her voice was in sharp contrast to the warmth she carried with her. She ignored the two of them, her eyes boring into the wolf's. Fen'harel seemed to grow in size till he looked her eye to eye.

"Greetings, imprisoner of mine." She said in a dangerous tone.

"It is good to see you as well Ghilan'nain." The dread wolf responded with no emotion.

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Morrigan watched Leliana slowly open her eyes as the veil tear before them gently sealed itself. The villagers had formed an uneasy group around them. The witch supposed she could understand their hesitation. Neither she nor the bard looked normal, so to say. And Leliana had called down a wave of fire that had incinerated every demon in the village. The orlesian stumbled a bit as she got to her feet and Morrigan instinctively put her arm around Leliana's shoulder to support her. The bard smiled at her.

"Thank you." She murmured. "It's done. All the tears should be sealed."

The witch nodded before replying. "You need rest."

Leliana settled herself on one of the stone benches nearby. "It's alright Morrigan. I'll be fine in a moment."

The witch observed with slight confusion. She wasn't sure why she was suddenly behaving somewhat differently with Leliana. Differently? Not really. Something like what they had shared before Morrigan had poisoned her perhaps. Mutual respect? But the bard's display of magic had definitely awed the witch. She shoved the uncomfortable thoughts away as one of the older villagers approached them.

"Thank you." He said. "Er… is there anything we can do?"

"There's no need." Leliana replied calmly. "How is that man, Marcus?"

"I'm afraid he's completely insane, lady. Maybe he'll get better, can't say."

The bard nodded. "Let's go Morrigan. We have a bit of a tight schedule it would seem."

The witch began to leave the entrance. She noticed the bard lagging behind for a moment. She arrived a few minutes later with a pack.

"What is that?" The witch asked pointedly.

"Just some supplies."

Morrigan continued to trail after Leliana, thinking of various recent incidents. She had a question on her mind that she decided to simply toss out.

"Do you still love Alisa?" She asked suddenly. The bard stopped and turned around to lock eyes with her.

"Maybe I have eyes for someone else." She said softly, taking a step closer.

The witch wondered if her heart was beating faster. She shoved those thoughts away. If the bard wanted to play games, she would oblige her instead of losing her temper.

"Oh, and who would that be?" Morrigan purred, taking a step closer herself.

She saw a look of surprise on Leliana's face before the orlesian smiled. "You have to ask?"

The bard brought her face a little closer till the witch suddenly fell back.

"What in damnation are you doing?" She yelled.

Leliana winked and turned around, continuing down the road. The witch had half a mind to scream. She had been gotten to… again. She walked quickly to catch up.

"Why must you do this?" Morrigan asked as the fields around them began to turn back into forests.

"It is entertaining, no?" The bard smirked.

"Not for me, no." The witch snapped. Before Leliana could reply she froze and gestured Morrigan to stop.

The witch noticed it an instant. Four circular veil tears stood in front of them. But if the bard had closed them all, then these were not her doing. The orlesian reacted fast, raising her hand and beginning to seal the tears, with Morrigan lending a hand.

"Razikale." Leliana hissed. The portals snapped shut but not before eight monstrous pride demons emerged.

"Eight…" The witch murmured in shock. "Someone truly desires your death, bard."

One of the hulking beasts roared. "You will be brought before the dragon gods."

Leliana responded with several bolts of flame as the demons charged. Morrigan backed up and released her magic as the bard danced away from their grasp. She couldn't stay still long enough to muster a truly powerful assault. The witch feared that she was still tired from her previous exertions. One of the demons caught the bard with a stray fist, knocking her to the ground. It snarled and advanced as Morrigan pushed it back with a blaze of lightning. The distraction turned out to be what the bard needed as chains erupted from nowhere and restrained the beasts. Leliana gave the witch a grateful smiled for a moment before burning the demons to ash.

She settled herself against a tree, breathing heavily as she healed her wounds and wiped away the traces of blood on her face.

"Who would have thought the demigoddess would need saving?" Morrigan smirked as she sat down beside the bard. "Are you alright?"

"Fine." Leliana breathed. "Thanks. It would seem the old gods are upset with my recent decisions."

"Are they not still trapped?" The witch asked.

"They are, I can assure you of that." The bard replied. "I don't know how they're exerting their magic outside their prison. Nonetheless, it would seem that their use of it is limited."

"Limited? Those were _eight _pride demons of the deadliest kind." Morrigan snapped.

"As I said, limited." Leliana smiled. "If they could do anything they wanted, they would have sent an army. We'll need to hurry though. They must have opened other tears elsewhere."

"We need to rest first so that we don't die next time." The witch said flatly, night had fallen anyway.

"Agreed." The bard said before smiling. "The last time we stopped for the night was quite eventful."

"I swear that I will burn you if you try that again." Morrigan snapped.

"Maybe I'll take that risk." Leliana winked.

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_Author's Note: One elven god down and... a lot to go. Hm, I have some ideas to try and ensure this doesn't get repetitive. Let's see how that works. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Do leave your thoughts. Next update should be soon._

_To my reviewers:_

_interesting2125: Thanks for the review! Yeah, apart from just dealing with the warden, I want this to focus a fair bit on Leli and Morry. They are very important to the plot, among other things. That and I've found I quite enjoy writing those interaction scenes. _


	23. Turning Point

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: And on with the story. It's about time we got back to Alistair and his friends. Do leave our thoughts and I hope you enjoy the chapter._

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Chapter 23 – Turning Point

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The old gods had thought things out before they began. And yet, they were surprised, as was everyone else. The bard and the witch hated each other didn't they? In all honesty, even if they did not it never should have been enough. Leliana had gotten the better of them, it would seem, she was less in their control than they had hoped for. They had desired to pick up a shell of a mortal to start with but one that felt right. The death of her mother, the death of the one who cared for her after, the betrayal of her mentor, torture in a prison. And then she was almost perfect. Give her hope in the form of companions, a love and a vision from the Maker himself. And then snatch it all away at the very last moment. Betrayed by a friend, not trusted by a love. And yet, it would seem that it was not enough. Unless everyone had missed something.

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"Why?" Ghilan'nain asked coldly.

Alisa and Lance had taken several steps back from the two gods. The goddess was, as expected, not overjoyed at having been betrayed and sealed away. The warden could see the faintest hints of magic fluxing around one of her hands. The dread wolf on the other hand did not look troubled at all. He returned her gaze with his usual blank and calculating expression.

"Why did I imprison you or why have I released you, which answer do you seek?" The wolf growled in response.

"Both." Ghilan'nain said. "And tread carefully Fen'harel, trust is something you shall never have again."

"I imprisoned you all because it was necessary. I release you because it is necessary." The dread wolf responded calmly. "Make no mistake; I would seal you away again if I could."

"And what did you ever gain by doing this? Power?"

"You know that power was neither ever the issue, nor my desire." Fen'harel growls. "Gods must be locked away for existence to persist."

"And why are you the exception to this rule?" Ghilan'nain questioned as the magical flux around her hand intensified.

"Because I understand." The dread wolf said flatly. "We have not the time to speak of this. Your aid is required."

The goddess laughed. It was not meant to be pleasant. "And now you seek our aid. Why do you even believe you would acquire it?"

"You have no choice." Fen'harel said plainly. "The dragon gods are returning. Do you not feel the fade echoing with their power?"

"What is the meaning of this?" Ghilan'nain demanded.

"Allow me to explain in a simpler way." The dread wolf said as he closed his eyes. The goddess followed his example a moment later.

"What are they doing?" Alisa whispered.

"If I had to guess, they must be communicating telepathically." Lance muttered.

The warden paused for a moment as they observed the two of them.

"Thanks for coming with me Lance." The elf said softly with a smile.

"What are friends for?" He replied.

Alisa could tell he was holding back on what he wanted to say. Perhaps that was better for both of them considering the way things were going. She prayed Morrigan was alright. She wondered if Leliana had changed her mind, she thought it unlikely. The witch and the bard hated each other, at least that was the impression she had always got. A few moments later the two gods opened their eyes again.

"It appears there truly is no choice." Ghilan'nain stated. "It is still a wonder that you have not, as of yet, interfered."

"You know that she could destroy us." Fen'harel growled. "Regardless, interference from the gods is a last resort."

"Do not expect the others to be so understanding, Fen'harel." The goddess said flatly. "You are not and shall not be forgiven, but there is a greater threat."

"Do you not think I expected this?" The dread wolf growled. "Regardless, it is time we aided them. There are two of us now."

"I see what you intend." Ghilan'nain mused. "Very well. We shall assist them in protecting their city. Do you intend to release the others?"

"Of course. Now we must act."

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Alistair watched despondently from the hill as a pride demon tried its luck at Denerim's gate, only to be repulsed by a wave of arrows and some magic. It roared and fell back as the other demons prowled. It was an unusual situation. The veil tears outside the city had closed of their own accord some time back. The demons appeared stranded with no reinforcements and yet they had not moved. Their positioning however denied the soldiers within the city from rushing out and gutting them. The templar saw no sense in rushing down the hill, screaming like a madman in a vain attempt to clear the blockade. To his relief though, the explosions and flames from within the city had died down.

Zevran had returned mere hours after he had left stating that there was no real way off the hill. Too many demons roamed the base of the hill now. They were trapped on top like birds in a cage. The only way out was down into the field of battle.

"It would appear as though the situation within the walls has been resolved." Wynne murmured.

"How long are we going to wait here?" Sten said. "We must do something."

"And what would that be my friend?" Zevran muttered. "Run to our deaths heroically? Forgive me but I would rather not."

"I don't think you're gonna like this one soddin' bit." Oghren said as he pointed down the hill.

Alistair got up and nearly fell over again. The veil tears were back outside the city. He could count precisely four of them. But these looked different. They were perfect circles and incredibly subtle. They didn't share the jagged red outlines of the previous one. They seemed to simply flow from reality itself. And a moment later, the demons began to emerge again. The advantage the defenders had had thus far was that only a single massive demon had stood against them. And now more walked forth from the portals. The other demons rapidly assembled, ready to take the gate.

"The gate will fall for certain now." Alistair said. "If those demons get in, it's over."

"Then we must stop them." Sten said simply.

"There are only five of us." Wynne said softly. "And we can't even get word out for aid. I don't see how we can help."

"We could charge when they hit the gates." Oghren offered.

"You would be charging into far too many." Zevran said flatly. "There is no real solution here."

One of the pride demons' fists connected with the gate before it was forced away. The entire wall seemed to shake. The arcane horrors bombarded the defenders with magic who fought back valiantly. The demons would grossly outnumber the soldiers at this rate. The trees in the nearby forest began to crack loudly. Several of them could be heard falling. Alistair snapped his attention in that direction, as did the demons.

"What is that?" He asked, somewhat nervously.

"Whatever it is, it's damn big." Oghren muttered.

The being tore out of the forest and into the open, screeching loudly. The templar gasped as did most of the others. Even the qunari looked somewhat shaken. The massive, slim framed beast looked most akin to a spider. Its skin was black and hardened but with unusual texture, like a cross between stone and wood. It shrieked again as it propelled itself into the demon horde on its four slim legs, moving with surprising agility. Another two of the strange beasts emerged from the forests before leaping upon the demons who hastily tried to rearrange themselves into a more suitable formation.

"What in the Maker's name is that?" Alistair gasped as one of the beasts grabbed a pride demon with two of its appendages before soaking it in some form of corrosive spittle.

"They're only myths." Wynned murmured. "Stories."

"Are you aware of what these monstrosities are?" Zevran asked, unconsciously drawing his daggers.

"They're an elven legend. It is said that they were created by the gods to protect the elven people, forged from rock, tree and wind." The old mage replied, still looking shocked. "They're called Varterral."

The three beasts ravaged the demon army with relative ease. One of them leaped a shockingly large distance into the air before crashing down upon a group of demons.

"Whose side are they on?" The templar asked nervously.

"Seeing as they're not supposed to exist, I don't know." Wynne replied.

"Now would be an ideal time to get off this hill." Sten said. "The demons at the base will be distracted if not gone."

Alistair nodded and led them quickly down, the shrieks of the Varterral still echoing through the air. The templar found himself and his small group engaged in battle with a small group of demons. Alistair viciously swung his sword through a desire demon. He felt a familiar pull. Before he had time to think or panic he crashed unceremoniously upon the ground at the feet of a revenant.

"Die." It said simply as it raised its blade. Alistair raised his shield in preparation for a blow that never came. A silver, stag like creature rushed from the forest, violently butting the revenant before gracefully leaping back. It took the templar a moment to recognize a halla. What he couldn't understand was why there was one here. He belayed his thoughts as his shield connected violently with the revenant. He locked blades with the demon which was shockingly strong. Alistair felt himself losing ground as Sten swung his sword, cleaving into the demon. The templar pushed it back and stuck his sword clean through. The revenant dropped its blade.

"Fool." The demon scoffed in a deep voice. "War shall engulf this land. If you think it ends here you are gravely mistaken. The dragon gods shall… not lie silent. Your battles have only begun."

The revenant collapsed. The templar turned, breathing heavily but could find no sign of the halla that had aided him. He felt Wynne heal his wounds.

"What's going on?" He panted. "Those monsters, that Halla saving me…"

"It would appear that we are dealing in things we don't understand." Wynne said simply.

"That's been happening a lot lately." Alistair said dryly as he walked around the base of the hill. He froze a moment later.

The Varterral had all but cleared the demon army away. The defenders rained arrows on both the demons and the monsters. But the projectiles merely glanced off the beasts' stony hides. The pride demons were all slain, their bodies corroded away by the Varterral's acid. There were only a handful of demons left. With no warning, the monsters uttered chittering screams before leaping away and bounding back into the forests from where they had emerged.

"What are you waiting for?" Sten demanded. "Finish them off."

"I suppose we'll take whatever advantage we get." Alistair said as he charged the few remaining demons who looked too shocked to offer significant resistance. A while later Wynne had successfully sealed away the fade portals. The templar breathed a sigh of relief.

"Let's go see how things are doing inside the city. Maybe we can find some answers too."

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Morrigan and Leliana sat in silence around the campfire they had made, finishing their meals. The fire the bard used was Toth's and its glow was somewhat eerie. The witch supposed that was the point of it. She turned to see the orlesian offering her a smile.

"Morrigan, isn't that the brooch I bought you in Denerim?" She asked pointing.

"I… well, yes. It was… beautiful." The witch stuttered.

"And here I thought you hated me." The bard said with a grin.

"Keep this up and it'll be true." Morrigan shot back before relaxing a little. "Isn't it time you gave me some answers. What in damnation is going on?"

"Actually, I think it is time for me to explain myself." Leliana sighed before beginning the story.

She finished a good while later with the witch processing the information.

"So, the usage of your newfound gifts cracks their prison and yet you continue to use them?" Morrigan asked in disbelief. "Maybe your head is cracked."

"No, it most certainly is not." The bard replied. "You see, if I stop then the old gods may take drastic action. They are content to sit back and wait for the moment. Besides, I know when the gate will be too close to breaking and I can stop there."

"Those demons they sent were not the actions of someone who was sitting back and waiting." The witch said flatly.

"That was to show their… disappointment at my betrayal." Leliana responded. "If they had committed themselves to action they would have sent an army after me."

"Is there no solution to your predicament?" Morrigan murmured.

"Actually, there is the simplest solution in the world." The bard smiled. "I know how to reseal the gate and get all this over with."

"Then why have you not done it? And how would you do it?"

"You see, my powers are tied to the gate's integrity. That is why it degenerates with my usage. However the same power they granted me to crack the gate works backwards if I choose to relinquish my blessings. The changes to me are, in essence, magic. Magic that can be returned to where it came from. Simple, yes?"

"You mean to say 'tis easy as you using your magic to seal the cracks, by giving up the changes?"

"The old gods are not fools, Morrigan." Leliana said softly. "It can only be done before their prison and free will in that region is a luxury."

"What do you mean?"

"Their voices, they claw into your mind and soul." The bard shuddered. "I already tried it once. They will not… let me seal the gate. It is impossible. We need to find another solution."

"Any ideas?" Morrigan asked.

"Let us meet with the others and then we can consider a course of action."

"Is that why you accepted the deal? Because you had no choice?" The witch asked quietly.

Leliana nodded. "Once Roysten had me in the fade, I could not refuse. All I could do was temper the conditions as much as possible."

"This is all my fault, 'twould seem." Morrigan said sadly.

"As much mine as yours." The bard said, laying a hand on the witch's shoulder.

"Why did you leave that night?" Morrigan whispered. "'Twas not my intention for things to go that way."

"I don't know." Leliana said after a lengthy pause. The witch glanced up, wondering if the orlesian was hiding something. She couldn't tell. "Whatever happened happened, now we have to fix it."

Morrigan nodded before straightening up. "Which of us is taking first watch?"

"I'll take it." The bard replied. Then she smiled slyly. "By the way, your shoulders are very tense. Want a massage?"

The witch glared back.

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"Varterral?" Zazikel seethes. "And they were in perfect control. You are aware of what that means."

"Of course." Razikale replies. "At least one elven god has been freed to join Fen'harel. For them it has always been power in pairs and beyond."

"And a Halla interfered in the death of one of Alisa Surana's close companions." Toth states.

"It would appear that Ghilan'nain is free." Dumat laughs. "This is becoming amusing."

"What now? The dread wolf is masking his presence from our sight." Urthemiel sings.

"We wait." Dumat says simply. "Tear open more portals Razikale, as you are able. We shall wait till we have our freedom. We have fought the elven gods before. For them, victory is an impossibility."

"And be sure to warn the demons that they will likely have to deal with Varterral." Lucasan states.

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_Author's Note: Well, I hope you liked the chapter. Yes, the Varterral is from witch hunt. I just thought it was another bit of lore I could string in here. Basically, it replaces *insert random monster I made up here*. Do leave your feedback. Next update should be soon._

_To my reviewers:_

_interesting2125: Thanks for the review! He most certainly will have much to say and do when we get to him. In good time._

_Lehni: Thanks for the review! Ah, the teasing has to culminate somewhere. Eventually. For now, I'm enjoying writing it. The resolution should become clear as we move along._

_Nightwish11606: Thanks! I haven't heard of the movie but I might check it out now. Leliana and Morrigan, hmmmm. Soon enough, I suppose. I hope you continue to like the story :)_


	24. Merely a God

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Well, this update is a surprise to me as well. I didn't think I'd get this up so soon but I had some free time. This chapter is short, akin to chapter 14. It's a flashback that deals mostly with the gods. I hope it will, gradually, make clear the lore tweaks I made for this story._

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Chapter 24 – Merely a God

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The mortals pray to the statue they have built. They are proud of the stone dragon that is their new object of worship. No more worship of the Maker, no more worship of entities that do not show themselves. They pray to the dragons that consume them if they do not. One of them screams as he is ripped apart by the jaws of a wolf that has emerged from the shadow. The others shake and stutter as Fen'harel feeds. He rips them apart in seconds. It has been some time since they faced the old gods before. Things are changing in the world. The people worship the dragons now. The dread wolf smashes the statue to dust. He hopes he has attracted the attention of those he seeks. He is alone.

Dumat crashes down from the skies above so quickly that it seems he came from nowhere. Shockwaves scatter from his arrival, the ground cracks and trees collapse. Fen'harel is tossed unceremoniously across the ground. He is up in an instant. He stares at the massive void like form before him. The glowing white eyes bore into his infinitely deep pupils. The dread wolf grows in size till he equals the form of the dragon lord. Dumat merely laughs.

"I come to speak, nothing more." Fen'harel growls.

The god of silence batters him aside like a doll. His enormous wolf form crashes into the ground. Dumat lunges and smashes his feet into the dread wolf's ribcage. Fen'harel shrinks his form significantly. He escapes from the pinning talons. Perhaps it is a show of good faith. The dragon lord's head moves quicker than even the dread wolf's eyes can follow. An instant later he hangs, almost limply in Dumat's jaws. He exerts all his strength to no avail. The god of silence lets go and Fen'harel falls back to the earth.

"Elgar'nan understands. I cannot be beaten." Dumat laughs. "Why don't you?"

"I come to speak." The dread wolf says through bared teeth. His patience is wearing thin.

The dragon lord laughs cruelly before impaling Fen'harel on a black lance of magic. The wolf forces himself off and begins to heal his wounds.

"You will say that you wish to aid us." The god of silence says. "And you will say the same to your compatriots. And then you seek to seal us all away. Amusing."

A thousand black spears replace the one from before, nearly shredding the dread wolf's body. He heals himself hastily. It is impossible. How does Dumat know? He has not spoken a word. He is a manipulator by nature. This is not supposed to happen to him.

"Did you believe I could not read your thoughts?" The dragon lord says maliciously. "Are you beginning to see why I am greater than you?"

Again, it is impossible. A god's mind cannot be read. It is inconceivable. And yet Dumat does it without apparent effort. The dread wolf is beginning to see the situation for what it is.

"Ah, but you despise your own kin." The god of silence muses. "Not just those fools but all gods. And yet, you and I are the only ones who see your reasoning."

"Gods have egos." Fen'harel barks.

"Egos that need to be stroked. Indeed, I am aware of what you intend to say." Dumat speaks. "But mortals are much the same, my friend."

"There is a difference."

"And so there is. And only you and I see it. How inconvenient for you." The dragon lord mocks. "Indeed, you are correct. Gods have the _power _to force their egos to be fed. Mortals can act much the same in positions of power."

"And yet, gods cause so much more damage."

"How noble." Dumat laughs. "That is not your reason at all. You desire worship as much as the rest. Your reason is far more… fundamental. That existence itself shall be shattered in the games of the gods. You are not wrong."

"What is a god when there is nothing else?" The dread wolf growls. "We shall all be the same then. It is pathetic."

"All the same?" The dragon lord inquires. "Not quite, my friend. You are merely gods."

A swath of black flame emerges from Dumat's maw as Fen'harel fights it back with magic of his own to no avail. He dashes aside to avoid the stream of death. Dumat's foot descends upon his body in the same moment, pinning him to the ground. Unbreakable bones snap like twigs as the dragon lord laughs. The dread wolf cannot help but yelp in pain.

"Indeed, you are only a god and I am so much more." The god of silence.

"You are the same as us." Fen'harel croaks.

Dumat roars for a moment before smashing the dread wolf's skull to powder. His body is healed and restored by virtue of his being a god. Yet he can feel his essence weakening. His energy waning.

"Gods _can _die, you know." The dragon lord says. "You just have to hurt them enough. You know how I am different. And I am aware of it. Say it though, I wish to hear it."

"Your magic is… deeper." Fen'harel offers.

Dumat laughs. "A subtle way of putting it. Please, say it the way it is. You are aware."

"You have the power to destroy all reality. And this makes you different." The dread wolf grudgingly admits. He has understood this.

"Yes, my friend. Exactly." The dragon lord says.

"Yet you cannot create."

"If I could, then I would be the Maker himself. Greater perhaps. A talent I will learn in time." Dumat says. "You have outlived yourself though. You came here to speak and you have spoken. Now die."

Fen'harel lashes out to meet the dragon lord's strength but the titanic blaze of magic is more than anything he has ever felt before. He crumples on the floor. His energy is all but spent. He is practically mortal. If he dies, he is dead. His spirit is fading. He considers adopting his true form for one last majestic battle.

"Run away." The dragon lord laughs.

"What?" Fen'harel murmurs as he rises.

"I have read your thoughts. Go free, I see use in you." Dumat laughs.

It is painful for the dread wolf to swallow pride and lope into the forest. But he must, for he must find a way to stop the god of silence. He is the only one who is willing. He will not be a tool to the dragon lord. He wonders if his trick worked.

Dumat observes Fen'harel leave. "Yes, do what is needed. In the end you will only be helping me."

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_Author's Note: Well, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Do leave your feedback. Next update should be soon enough._

_To my reviewers:_

_interesting2125: Thanks for the review! Yeah, I doubt it'll be that easy :P Although, maybe Leli's looking at things the wrong way ;)_

_Nightwish11606: Thanks! Is Leli changing back? Can't give that away yet ;) And on a personal note, I would like Morrigan to give in as well :)_


	25. Backlash

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Sorry for the delay but I haven't been entirely well. I'm better now, so it's all good! This chapter's a bit shorter than usual but we should get back to normal from next time. This is mostly to in introduce a new character into the medley. Hope you enjoy the chapter and do leave your feedback._

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Chapter 25 – Backlash

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Actions in general are of two kinds, those that can be reasoned with and those that cannot. Take for example, Teyrn Loghain's betrayal at Ostagar. I feel safe in saying he truly was deluded into thinking he was doing the right thing. It was not a conscious attempt to cause an act of evil. I may, of course, be mistaken but his untimely death leaves no room for real answers. The question of course is whether he could be reasoned with. Perhaps yes, by someone sufficiently capable. He was after all, only mortal. The reason I say this is to establish something very different. The old gods are not like this. By virtue of being gods they are essentially incapable of blinding themselves. Of course, the obvious question that results is whether Dumat is aware of his 'evil' actions and willingly performs the same? You see, gods have no real concept or care for right and wrong as such. Morality is such a mortal concept that we do not see things through their eyes. But they see vengeance clearly enough. Beaten at Denerim, they had to strike back. It would have been ridiculous not too, especially when vulnerabilities are obvious.

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Alistair sheathed his sword and strapped his shield away. He took a moment to relax himself as he led the others towards the now open gates of Denerim. The demons were all gone as far as the eye could see. Wynne was exhausted from closing all the veil tears but assured them she would be fine with some rest. The templar stopped as a raven landed close to him and hopped in his direction purposefully. A flash of light later, he stared stupidly at the familiar old woman before him.

"I trust you were not expecting to see me." Flemeth said flatly.

"You're dead." Alistair muttered.

"Apparently not." The shapeshifter replied. "I come to deliver a warning to you. If you believe you are in the clear then you are mistaken. You would do well to turn your attention to that town called Redcliffe. Hesitate and the demons will already have taken everything."

Without waiting a response Flemeth transformed into a raven once more to flutter away. She had a daughter to find.

Alistair and the others stood around without a word leaving their mouths. Soldiers were emerging from the great city to scout around the area. The templar wondered if one could trust dead people. At the very least, this had to be discussed with Arl Eamon.

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The revenant drew his weapon as he stood at behind the demon force. He was proud; he had been chosen by the dragon gods to lead their forces. And he was a pride demon. Irony was not lost on a being of his intelligence. Most certainly not an ordinary revenant. His weapon was a staff with a blade at the end. Unique, just like him. He could see the town of Redcliffe at the base of the hill. He also spied a group of knights and archers holding position behind a bridge. A fairly motley group but he did not expect trouble. His attention was focused entirely elsewhere. He had heard the chittering cries of the Varterral in the distance. These humans had to be dealt with before the beasts arrived.

The dragon lord's plans were perfect. They were to assault and enslave as much of this town as they could. And when the army arrived to stop them, they were to depart and renew the assault elsewhere. The veil tears allowed for nearly infinite manoeuvrability, he would have these people dancing across the land helplessly. And all the while, the freedom of the gods drew closer and closer. He advanced towards the bridge and stopped just short of arrow range with the rest of the demons behind him. Still a significant distance to the bridge. He could hear the knight at the lead speak.

"Funnel them at the bridge!"

How... intelligent. The revenant spun his swordstaff as he made a pulling gesture with his other hand. Half a dozen of the knights flew through the air, landing amidst the demons that set upon them gleefully.

"Yes. Feast." The revenant said in a deep voice. "And when you are done, charge."

He commanded the hulking beast at his command to the front of the force and gestured the attack. As the other demons rushed, he walked forward casually. Electricity burst from his weapon, electrocuting one of the knights to death. The other defenders fell back at the leaders orders.

"Fall back." He shouted. "We have to buy time. Bann Teagan is assembling a force to drive them back."

Drive them back? What an abysmally foolish idea. He laughed though. These humans had been caught so off guard that they weren't even ready. He advanced and stopped as arrows flew at them from atop the walls of Redcliffe castle. The knights and archers stopped again, taking the advantageous position.

"Forget the castle for the moment." The revenant barked. "Crush the town, enslave the people. Kill all who resist. And bring that damned knight to me."

The knights and archers outside the castle began a swift retreat towards the town as the demons ran through the shower of arrows, partially defended by barriers erected by the arcane horrors. The small group rearranged itself once sufficient distance had been put from the castle. One of the desire demons approached him.

"There are forces assembling in the castle. We are surrounded now." She said. "I do not believe this was an intelligent course of action."

The revenant calmly reached out his free hand and twisted the desire demon's head by a hundred and eighty degrees, listening to the satisfying snap. He tossed the body aside like a sack of rubbish. The other demons visibly withdrew a fair distance. He was smiling on the inside; this is the way it should be. Fear was the best tool a commander could ever have. And easy to inspire for a pride demon of his power.

"Do not question my judgment." He said in a soft and dangerous tone. "I am aware of the situation. Now take the town."

His forces did not hesitate as they assaulted the town. Archers fired on them as the knights engaged with everything they had. The enormous pride demon at the head of the force ripped through the soldiers as it began taking apart the archers. The revenant casually lobbed a handful of fireballs into the town. He watched with satisfaction as the buildings began to burn. He conjured a significantly larger ball of fire and catapulted it into the chantry. He laughed as the building exploded in a fantastic blaze of light. He walked into the town, his swordstaff raking against the ground. Two of the demons tossed the lead knight at his feet. He grasped the man by his throat and raised him off the ground.

"Your name?" The revenant asked.

"Maker damn you!" The knight choked.

"How... brave." The demon mused. He reached his magic into the knight's mind, clawing at it viciously. "Ah, so you are Ser Perth. Surprising that I don't actually care. Would you serve the old gods?"

"What good are your prayers that are inspired from fear?" He managed as he fought helplessly against the revenant's iron grip.

"Silly human, all prayers are inspired by fear." The demon laughed as it tightened his hold. Perth's last breaths left him a moment later as the revenant let the corpse fall to the ground. "Unusual, why have reinforcements not come from the castle?"

He turned and growled. The blasted Varterral had arrived. Three of the beasts were striding down towards them. Two of them leapt into the city as one of the beasts made a beeline towards him. Of course, the forces from the castle had not emerged because they were cautious of these monsters. He could see troops pouring out now. So much for this attack. If he intended to leave, arrangements had to be made. He turned to one of the arcane horrors.

"Can you disguise your presence from mages inside a human shell?" He barked. The Varterral was getting closer.

"Yes, lord." The demon rasped back.

"Can you ensure that the being you possess does not have its physical form mutilated?"

"Yes, lord."

"Can you behave in a non suspicious manner?"

"I believe so, lord."

"Then possess that knight's corpse. Be our spy. I will call for you to act when the time is right. Do not be found out." He ordered.

"Of course, lord Blazt. I will not disappoint you." Said the arcane horror as it gave up its own body to seize Ser Perth's corpse.

Blazt. He had not been called by his name in some time. Usually it was simply lord or great one. The other demons feared him and with good reason. The blade of his swordtsaff became red hot as he charged the Varterral with surprising agility. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other two beasts making short work of his forces. Blazt leapt surprisingly high into the air with the aid of magic and landed comfortably on the beast's back. He slid down the creature with his weapon cutting through the Varterral's stony skin like a hot knife through butter. He proceeded to run beneath it, cutting comfortably through its underside. He dodged its appendages and brought the monstrosity down with an excess of spirit magic. Admittedly the exertions had been tiring and he could see soldiers rushing towards the town. He prayed to the gods in his mind and he felt a veil tear open behind him. He felt relieved; the gods had kept their promise. He began to walk through the portal.

"Help us, lord!" One of the demons shrieked from the village.

Blazt turned back and spoke plainly. "Do what damage you can to the village. Your sacrifices are an unfortunate necessity."

He strode through the portal as it closed behind him. Time to find a new target.

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Morrigan sighed as she looked up into the sky. She couldn't bring herself to fall asleep. She could see Leliana sitting by the fire to keep watch. Eventually she gave up her futile quest to find rest and got up. She saw the bard's eyes turn to her.

"I'll take watch instead." The witch said. "I cannot sleep."

"I barely sleep these days so I'll have to turn down your offer." Leliana replied as Morrigan joined her by the fire.

"And why is that?" The witch asked.

"Because sleep only brings dreams of the old gods." The orlesian replied shortly. "Now, since neither of us can sleep, maybe you would like to do something more... _interesting_."

"You are impossible." Morrigan snapped as she glared at the bard. They stayed silent for a time till a question occurred to the witch. "What happened to that woman you wanted to confront in Denerim?"

"You mean Marjolaine? She's dead. The death I gave her was... torturous." Leliana replied. "I ended it short though."

"She deserved it, according to your story." Morrigan mused.

"I don't recall telling you the entire story."

"Alisa confided the missing details to me after you left." The witch said softly. "She was affected... badly for a time."

"I really should clear things up with her." Leliana said softly.

"Are you going to beat her half to death as well?" Morrigan asked. The bard smiled in response.

"Oh no. That was specially for you."

"Your anger with me was understandable I suppose."

"Maybe I just wanted to feel you. Albeit a bit roughly." The orlesian smirked.

"I swear that you will die one of these days." The witch muttered. She then noticed something unusual. "That raven is awfully close to the fire."

Leliana turned her attention and surprise flickered on her face for an instant. "You should say hello to your mother, Morrigan."

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"Father, more demons are coming!" Tiberius yelled as the doors of the chantry shook again. Father Roysten's magic could only hold the demons off for so long.

"We will leave through the back entrance." Roysten commanded. That special exit was for occasions such as this one.

Roysten, Robert and Tiberius followed the others who had already run into the tunnel. The old man slammed the opening shut as he strode down the tunnel as quickly as his age would allow him. He did not understand exactly what was going on at this stage. Leliana had left but he was not concerned. Her actions were surely to be in the name of the Maker. The demons had unnerved him slightly but he had put that away. Only a means to an end, it hardly mattered. Yet now, the demons were attacking them. And Brother Adrian had betrayed them. There was no time for thinking at this stage, escape was the priority. They emerged from the tunnel into the light. The passageway had led beneath the hill.

"Two demons." Sister Elaine shouted as she pointed.

Roysten spun around and froze the rage demon, destroying it instantly. A shade advanced on them as the old man found his supply of magic had run dry. He ran out of energy far too soon these days. He pulled a dagger from his robe and slit his palm. He felt the energy flow through him as he dispatched the other demon.

"To the temple of the dragons." He commanded. "We shall deliberate once we are safe."

Without waiting for reactions he began to walk. Things were not going quite as he had intended it.

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Blazt is reeling in pain. The world is shaking with their rage.

_You failed. You were told to destroy everything. You hardly did any damage._

"Forgive me. The Varterral interfered." He begs as the old gods assault his mind.

_There were three. You slew one. You had time to cause additional damage before you fled._

"The army was emerging from the castle. I couldn't have stopped them all." He screams.

_You could have killed their leader. You are worthless._

"I managed to plant a spy!" He chokes hopefully. His essence is being slowly crushed.

_The only reason not to call you a complete failure. If pride demons of your calibre were not so hard to find, you would be dead. Next time, use your calibre._

"Of course, please give me another chance."

_Very well. A small village this time. Destroy everything. If you are successful, then we shall move back to bigger targets._

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_Author's Note: Ah, I was a bit sad about killing Ser Perth but what can I say. Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Do leave your thoughts. Next update should be soon._

_To my reviewers:_

_interesting2125: Thanks! Dumat's nature will, I think, be mostly revealed through the flashback chapters. There should be more of those coming in good time :)_

_Nightwish11606: Thanks! Yes, it will go down eventually. But not for a while I think. Still, lots to do!_


	26. Sparks

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Well, stuff has been pretty hectic lately and I haven't got as much writing time as I would like. Hopefully I'll get more after a couple of days. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and do leave your feedback._

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Chapter 26 – Sparks

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"That's a beautiful weapon, Bravery." He said to the fade spirit before him.

The swordstaff hovered before Bravery as he put the finishing touches on it. He really was exceptionally skilled at thought-crafting. Bravery looked at him and smiled gleefully like a child. Bravery had always been somewhat enamored with him.

"Thank you." He said happily. "This is my greatest work. I have scarce been more pleased."

He could see that, it really was exquisite. He had discovered a while back that he had something of a weapon fetish. He looked at all facets, appearance, efficiency, reach and he could go on forever. To his horrid luck though, he was terrible at thought-crafting weaponry. Here, in the fade, weapons were as you carved them in your mind. And he had never been particularly good at giving shape to his thoughts like that. He was unique in other ways too. A spirit with no name so to say. Nothing to represent, he hadn't quite decided.

In brutal honesty, spirits bored him to some extent. So dull. And here, motivation was something you made for yourself. He had picked up a rather unsavory habit of preying on other fade entities. Initially he had done it only because he thought it would improve his skills at thought-crafting. Then he would be able to carve his own weapons, and not pillage from what was left of those he crushed. Since his beginning he had been exceptionally strong to begin with. Perhaps that is what led to Bravery looking up to him. He had grown friendly with the spirit only because of his lovely weapons. He was given some from time to time and it pleased him. And yet it was clear that Bravery had fallen in love with the swordstaff he had wrought. He had fallen in love with it too.

The one thing he had always been exceptional at was draining the strength of other spirits and demons too. Well, when you looked at it hard enough, demons and spirits were the same. Just that, on average, demons had more 'fun' than spirits. He had just had a most interesting encounter with a desire demon. It had been startlingly pleasant. Clearly, the demon had thought she would feast on him after indulging herself. Alas, relations between spirits and demons meant you were more of a demon than a spirit anyway. Or on the way there at least. So he ensured she had ceased to exist.

"You still do not have a name?" Bravery inquired as he examined his new creation in greater detail.

That swordstaff. So beauteous. Ah, what did it matter if Bravery never forged another weapon, he would never outdo this one. Exceptional, it could channel magic and hack as well. He was _envious_. But that was demonic. He didn't care. He had purpose and motivation, what did his nature matter. That weapon would be his and then he could start himself a… collection of sorts.

"Why, I have chosen a name." He replied.

"What is it?" Bravery asked with barely concealed excitement.

"Blazt." He said, a touch maliciously.

"What… what does that represent?" Bravery asked in confusion.

"Nothing. I just like the sound of it." He said as his magic tore Bravery apart in seconds.

He spun the swordstaff in his hands. Demon? Spirit? Who cared. He had power and something to do.

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Alisa strode through another fade portal, following the two gods. Ghilan'nain and Fen'jarel appeared to have settled their own issues but still spent most of their time locked in telepathic conversation. That left Lance and her to tag along and try to anticipate what might be coming. The elven goddess had been pleasant enough with them, even thanked them for releasing her. From the little the dread wolf had said, it would seem that the elven gods were already assisting them. It would seem that they had awoken ancient defenders of Arlathan to help stop the demons. They had spoken little since then. They emerged onto a platform in the middle of nowhere, reminiscent of the one from where they had freed Ghilan'nain.

Differences were present of course. The ground was rocky and visibility quickly became zero as a dense fog settled over the platform. Alisa turned as Fen'harel spoke.

"Here you shall free Sylaise the hearthkeeper."

"Sylaise is perhaps better seen as someone who has power over fire." Ghilan'nain elaborated. "She could temper even the flames of Toth."

"And those are the pinnacle of fire magic aren't they?" Lance asked.

"Only if you choose to ignore the black flames of Dumat." The dread wolf growled. "Go now."

"You would not dispel the guardian magic?" The goddess questioned.

"They must… prove themselves." Fen'harel said softly.

"I see." The goddess said simply. "I hope you manage your trials."

The warden and Lance walked to the edge of the fog as it rolled over their feet. She really couldn't see a thing. She conjured a flame at the tip of her staff and held it out. It proved to have no effect whatsoever.

"Take my hand?" Lance asked, almost shyly.

They locked hands and wandered into the mist, barely able to observe what lay beneath their feet. Alisa felt a force tug at her. She resisted it as best she could but she and Lance were quickly torn apart. She stopped for a moment to gather her wits and noticed that the fog had rolled away to some extent. She could see a small area around her. And then she was tackled from behind. She lashed out with magic, only to have it fizzle away against her assailant's magic as she disentangled herself. She found herself looking at herself. The woman in front of her _was _her or at least a manifestation that looked just like her. There were differences, of course. Her counterpart's staff was far more twisted and blackened and the clothing was considerably more… revealing.

"Hey." Her doppelganger winked at her as fireballs clashed in the air.

"Why so hostile?" Her counterpart giggled. "I'm here to set you right."

"Shut up!" Alisa spat as lightning met lightning.

Magic quickly proved itself to be an impossible way of stopping her doppelganger as spells simply met spells. Alisa briefly wondered if her counterpart would tire of the magical exertions. It was after all a construct of magic. And yet it felt unnerving to face. It didn't that the warden had never seen magic quite like this before. Eventually, her counterpart gave up the magical struggle and pounced on her. Their staffs clattered away to the side, out of reach. Alisa struggled as her doppelganger attempted to connect a punch.

"So tell me, have you fucked Lance yet?" Her counterpart asked with a grin. "It'll be fun you know, to fuck him. You should have fucked Morrigan too, and Leliana. After all, you're really nothing more than a whore, right? Maybe you could even arrange a foursome; that would be fucking fun."

"Die, damn it." Alisa shouted as she let off a blaze of lightning that clashed against an identical wave.

"Truth hurts, right?" Her doppelganger laughed.

"You're just a magical construct." The warden said through gritted teeth as she lunged.

"Maybe, but I'm still you. Right to the last. At least, what you really are."

"No." Alisa said flatly as she managed to get an arm around her counterpart's neck. She released lightning after knocking her doppelganger to the ground. The electricity connected cleanly.

"And a murderer too, lovely." The construct managed before it dissolved into magic.

The warden grabbed her staff as the fog began to clear.

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Lance found himself in a barren town after being separated from Alisa. His memory was beginning to fog a bit and he couldn't quite remember what he had been doing. The town was a mess, most of the buildings burnt to ash and mutilated bodies lay scattered throughout the street. He could see a single old woman weeping as she leaned against a half collapsed wall. He approached her slowly.

"Are you alright?" He asked. "What happened here?"

The woman looked up as shock spread across her face. "_You_." She hissed. "This is all your fault and then you have the gall to ask what happened?"

He recoiled at the harsh tone and deadly look. "What do you mean?" He asked, uncomprehending.

"You know only too well." She barked. "Since you had your little damned _affair _with that warden, things just fell apart."

He stepped back further, he didn't remember. Or did he? Alisa, had he really spilt his feelings? He had been considering it but he couldn't remember a damn thing.

"How? How?" He asked, shaking his head.

"Silly boy." The old woman spat. "The dragon gods are wrecking the world. And you know damn well why it's happening."

The dragon gods? Something clicked in place. There had been a woman, Leliana. The person who the old gods had blessed. And Alisa and her… Alisa and him…

He could only guess now. Was it really that he had gotten together with Alisa and then nothing had stopped Leliana from releasing the gods? It was what he had been afraid off, he could remember that much. Afraid…

"You may as well kill yourself." The old woman said miserably as she tossed him a dagger which caught.

That's right. He may as well kill himself. All his fault anyway, he didn't deserve to live. He brought the knife to his wrist, letting it hover there. Something still didn't quite fit though. It was something he had always been afraid off, and it had been realized. Like living a damn nightmare. Nightmare? The bringer of nightmares…

The knife withdrew a little.

"Kill yourself. Come on. Do it." The old woman coaxed, somewhat desperately.

"No." He muttered as he tossed the knife aside. He was beginning to remember now.

"Then die." The old woman snapped as she mutated into an abomination.

Lance fought it with magic instinctively and with each blow the construct around him began to break away. Eventually, with the death of the beast, he was back on the platform. The fog was gone. Alisa rushed to his side as he struggled up.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

"I'm fine." He murmured. "Get the door before something else pops up."

The warden nodded and he watched as the prison door collapsed to dust under her hand.

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Blazt electrocuted one of the village guards as his swordstaff slew another one. This was all a result of his mistakes at Redcliffe. Now the old gods were essentially mocking him by giving him such trivial tasks. This village was defenseless and pathetic. It didn't matter if he was alone or not, any demon could have taken this village apart. He lobbed another fireball as another of the buildings exploded in flames.

He stalked through the street, his swordstaff spinning in his hand. Almost all the people here were dead by now. He caught sight of a small number of them who were attempting to flee. A simple tugging gesture with his arm brought them back as he skewered them quickly.

In all essence he was done. He set the last few buildings alight as he cast a careful spell. The villagers' corpses rose and shambled roughly towards him.

"Go, destroy." He said in a dismissive tone as he pointed in the approximate direction of another town.

He felt a fade portal open behind him as he walked through it. The voices addressed him at once.

_Very well. It is time to proceed. You shall have your next target shortly._

"Of course, mighty ones. I exist to serve." He said softly.

_Do you know this human? Or any of these other mortals?_

A series of images flashed through his mind. "No." He replied simply.

_The first one is called Alistair. The others are his companions. He is a grey warden and will likely turn out to be the greatest annoyance in bringing the world to its knees. He will be watching for demon attacks._

"You wish him destroyed?" Blazt asked.

_If the opportunity presents itself, do not fail._

"Of course not. He is as good as dead."

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Morrigan stared blankly for a moment as the raven transformed into the familiar form of her mother. It did take her somewhat by surprise. She had always expected Flemeth to be back, there had been no doubt. But this one was surprisingly soon. She was already steeling herself to protect from possession and magic danced at her fingertips. She did not intend to take chances. She could actually take some comfort in the fact that Leliana was with her. The bard was incredibly powerful and she hoped that Leliana would be inclined to assist her, should the need arise.

"Hello Morrigan." Flemeth said plainly. She then gave a distasteful look to the orlesian. "Leliana."

"Mm, you have been keeping tabs on me I expect." The bard said smiling. "You must feel quite disappointed about what happened."

"It does not matter what I feel, what I know is that you should be cut down where you stand." The shapeshifter said, her attention drawn away from the witch.

"Ah, but you are unaware of which side I am on." Leliana replied.

"How can you be on anyone else's side when the powers of the old gods course through your veins?" Flemeth snapped.

"It appears I have learnt to resist their calling." The orlesian said, still calm.

"What is going on?" Morrigan asked, somewhat annoyed.

"Your mother was in contact with the old gods for some time." Leliana said flatly. "The ritual you were to conduct Morrigan, to bring about a child with the soul of an old god, it was their idea."

"How did you know…" The witch started.

"They told me." The bard replied simply. "If you though you would have been able to control the child, you are gravely mistaken. It would hardly have been human, it would have been Urthemiel. With one of their number in the world, they could achieve their freedom. I expect Flemeth was promised power in return until they decided I was the safer option to go with."

"Mother…" Morrigan started. She was still tense but she was hiding it as best she could.

"She is not wrong." Flemeth said. "I have told you before, girl, power is what matters."

"How are you back so soon?" The witch blurted. "You were killed; it would have taken your spirit some time to…"

"The tricks of the old gods are worth something at least." Flemeth replied. "I was betrayed."

"So, now you move against them." Leliana laughed. "I suppose I cannot fault your actions."

"I do not have time to blabber endlessly." The shapeshifter said flatly. "If you wish to help, I suggest you meet me in the dragonbone wastes. Frankly, I would suggest you do it if you want any chance of victory."

Flemeth turned to shapeshift again, ignoring Morrigan's protest. She stopped for a moment and turned around.

"And I would suggest you do not wait on Alisa. She is busy in the fade."

"Doing what?" The bard asked with narrowed eyes.

"Freeing the elven gods." The shapeshifter remarked as she turned back into a raven and took to the sky.

Morrigan took a step forward but Leliana held her back with a gentle arm on her shoulder.

"The elven gods…" The witch murmured.

"She's probably telling the truth you know." The bard said softly.

Morrigan settled herself on a stone. "This is almost… too much. Everything is so sudden and…"

"It's alright." The orlesian said, laying both her hands on Morrigan's shoulders. "Things can be fixed, you shouldn't worry."

The witch didn't wish to project herself as vulnerable in any sense of the word. Flemeth's few words raced through her mind. She had thought this situation could not possibly get more complicated. She was used to seeing things as they really were and yet here she could barely grasp what was happening. She was grateful for the comfort the orlesian was trying to offer. She had, perhaps somewhat grudgingly, come to call Leliana a friend of sorts in the past few days. She certainly couldn't deny it to herself any longer. Although, she was far from willing to admit this to the bard however.

"Thank you." Morrigan muttered. "Now what?"

She looked up into the orlesian's blue eyes. As usual, she couldn't tell what the bard seemed to be thinking. Those were very pretty eyes though, especially when the coldness seemed to have reduced.

"Now this."

The witch's eyes widened in shock as Leliana claimed her lips.

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_Author's Note: Yes, I did that and I'm going to end the chapter there. What can I say? Anyway, I hope you liked the chapter and do leave your feedback. Next update will probably be delayed but I'll try to get it up as soon as possible._

_To my reviewers:_

_Nightwish11606: Thanks! Blazt will be discussed as time passes. But yes, those were the dragon gods speaking to him, I can assure you. Morrigan and her mother's proper interaction will have to wait just a bit more._

_interesting2125: Thanks for the review! I shall tell Blazt's story over the next few chapters, bit by bit. I hope you enjoy it!_


	27. Flames

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Ah, really busy these days. I expect to continue for a bit so my updates will be a tad slow. My apologies but hopefully we'll be back to normal soon. Anyway, without further ado let's dive into this next chapter. Do leave your thoughts and I hope you enjoy it._

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Chapter 27 – Flames

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The fade was oppressively silent as Blazt looked down upon the fading light of another spirit. He wasn't much fond of the quiet. The thrill of battle, the ecstasy of absorbing their strength, the pleasure of claiming new weaponry was what it was about for him. He examined the fade spirit's sword. Not bad, a decent addition to his collection but nothing compared to the weapon he currently had. However this glowing whitish form he possessed was not quite what he wanted. It looked so… weak. He needed to make an impression, lest the demons laugh at him before he crushed them. Oh no, they had to quake and beg before he tore their essences apart.

He turned to the other side of course for… inspiration? That word meant so very little in the fade. What he meant of course was that he desired a form to emulate. He actually had a fascination of sorts for the world beyond the veil. The creatures there were so much more interesting. They behaved erratically, irrationally and on the whole quirkily. Such things were never things of the fade; actions here were so horribly standard. Which is why his consistent preying and hunting was never really expected. No other fade being did that, not really anyway. The form of a revenant, those old corpses in suits of armor that demons possessed looked sufficiently appealing. He gently morphed his form, a skill that was surprisingly rare in the fade.

Most spirits and demons became so attached to their bodies that they found it difficult to change. Exceptions were obvious among the higher ranks of the demons and the occasional spirit. He was more a demon now than a spirit, clearly, although he would prefer to identify with neither. What sort of demon then? He supposed his self serving desires would indicate pride. To be frank though, he didn't particularly care. He was too busy admiring and analyzing his new shape.

Some changes would of course be needed. For one, the rotting skin of a corpse had to go. He wanted his victims to shake in fear and _awe_, not fear and disgust. The decayed epidermis of the corpse faded away into simple blackness and he accentuated the red eyes just a bit. And then it was perfect. Satisfactory, at the very least. And then it was time for more hunting.

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"So you have reason to believe Redcliffe is being assaulted?" Arl Eamon inquired with more than a hint of worry in his voice.

Alistair had found himself in a meeting with Arl Eamon and the Queen Anora herself, who looked none too happy with the interference in her governance. The templar also supposed she viewed him as a threat to her rule, not that he much wanted to be king. He hadn't been given an awful lot of choice in the matter anyway. And then there were bigger things to worry about than who would be king.

It was fairly unusual actually, in the midst of a blight everyone found time for personal vendettas and civil wars but when demons showed up all that went right out the window. He could see the reasoning to a certain extent. Demons were smarter than darkspawn, they thought beyond the lines of 'kill, kill, kill'. And how demons were demonized also must have had something to do with it. People feared magic and mages feared demons. You had a double layer to be afraid of right there.

And then Leliana had gone and sold her soul to some dark gods in exchange for enough power to destroy pretty much everything. He had signed up to hack at darkspawn and escape the chantry, not fight gods or be king. For one thing, he couldn't quite see the bard doing it. She had been a good friend and he was fully aware of the incident that forced her departure and yet something didn't fit. Still, you dealt with the reasoning after the problem had been fixed. For that, he prayed Alisa could do it. The most he could do at this time was find a way to help stave of these demonic hordes. No one seemed to have a clear idea of exactly how much of Ferelden was under attack or how dire the straits were. Essentially, they were stumbling blindly hoping to run into demons.

And then there had been those strange monsters which had essentially saved Denerim from the demons. What had Wynne called them? The Varterral. Elven myths, from what he could gather. It was difficult to think that monstrosities like that could be on anyone's side, let alone their side. Still, best to be wary and not look gift Varterral in the mouth at the same time, if possible.

And then there was Flemeth. Maker's breath, this mental list was growing ridiculously long. He had been there when Alisa had them kill Flemeth at Morrigan's request. Dead people weren't supposed to just pop up and start talking again. Or for that matter warn them of impending danger. And he still didn't know whether to trust the old witch or not. If they moved soldiers towards Redcliffe, Denerim was in danger and yet if they didn't, Redcliffe might be burning. If they were to move out, how many soldiers to take, how many demons were they dealing with? And this is why he never felt comfortable with the whole leadership thing.

"It's a possibility." Alistair ventured.

"We cannot work simply on that." Anora replied. "We need every soldier available used as best as possible. We cannot waste resources on dead ends."

"Redcliffe does have a defense ready." Eamon said. "And Teagan is there but I would be lying if I said I was not concerned."

"It's possible they'll be able to get a message through relatively soon." The templar muttered. "I'm just afraid it'll be too late."

There was a knock on the closed door. Anora gave a partially annoyed and partially worried look. They were only to be disturbed for emergencies. She called as the door opened and a fairly panicked captain strode in.

"Your highness, reports are coming in from across the nation. Multiple villages and cities are under siege and many are already lost. The death toll is growing at terrifying rates." He blurted.

"Then we must act immediately." Eamon said before glancing at Anora. "I suggest we forget any disputes regarding the throne for the moment. We have a crisis on our hands."

The queen nodded. "Begin preparing our forces to move out to as many afflicted areas as possible." She said flatly. "Leave enough to ensure the city stays safe. And let us hope that the circle of magi sends aid soon."

A missive had been sent to the circle immediately after Denerim was safe. The aid of the mages would be essential in defeating the demons due to the nature of the veil tears. A messenger had also been dispatched to Orzammar and to find the dalish elves. All the aid promised was to be critical, if not to fight the darkspawn then to fight the demons.

"I think it's worth it for me to take a small group and investigate Redcliffe at the least." Alistair said. "Perhaps we can find other information on our way."

"It is… settled then I suppose." Eamon said. "May the Maker watch over us."

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Blazt's swordstaff elegantly cut down another guard as the demons around him continued to wreck havoc on the town. Attacking a town so close to the border was bound to attract additional defense but also additional attention. He grasped a running villager by the neck and slowly choked the life out of him as he observed a pride demon tear through a nearby building.

The arcane horrors had done an acceptable job in lighting up the village. Slightly better off than equivalent towns in Ferelden but these people were not reeling under a blight. He had realized quickly what would occur once the people of Ferelden realized how dire their straits really were. They would request help of course. And the old gods agreed with him that the best course of action was to starve them of assistance.

Blazt knew exactly how to play this out and he had regained some measure of the dragon gods' trust, not that it had been easy. And so he would strike at Orlais. Nothing as ambitious as hitting the capital, there he would face too much resistance and mages who could seal the fade portals. And Razikale either lacked the energy or the desire to open an excess of fade portals. Blazt suspected their influence outside their prison was severely limited. Their influence in his mind, however, meant that he really had no choice in whether to go along with them or not. None of the demons did, in essence.

This small assault would put the precious nation of Orlais into a defensive mindset where they could no longer commit troops to Ferelden. With everything isolated, victory would be simple to come by or at least ensure while the old gods worked on their escape. It wasn't even that he had to divide Thedas, they had done that themselves. He merely had to abuse the infinite mobility granted by the veil tears. Mortal armies had to walk ad ride. He was bound by no such restrictions. He took a moment to praise his own genius before demolishing a building in an offhand manner.

The chantry in front of him presented a more alluring target for the moment. It was best to stick with the plans of the tevinter gods in the long run. He moved ahead of the pack he had brought with him. The others were too busy feeding or enacting whatever horrid torturous deaths they had designed for these humans. There was a single woman who kneeled before a statue, praying. Blazt paused momentarily behind her. The only single priest from the chantry who hadn't attempted to flee. There was something admirable about this woman, even if it was inspired by religious zeal. Ah, but she was just another irrelevant pawn.

"The deep dark before dawn's first light seems eternal, but know that the sun always rises." She whispered to herself in and unsteady voice.

"I am afraid that this time, the tides will not yield." Blazt said simply as he reduced the statue to dust which began to flow in the wind, carrying with it the scent of ash and death.

"Maker protect us!" The woman collapsed to the ground. She was crying now.

"From what I gather, he is all the saved you last time." Blazt's deep voice echoed. "But this time he is gone. I'm afraid there really is nothing you can do to stop Dumat from consuming your world."

"World?" The woman murmured, now crying harder. She must have been delirious and unaware of the source of the voice speaking to her.

"Did you think it was just Orlais? Or just Ferelden?" Blazt laughed. "Oh no, that is only the beginning. Why not Nevarra? And then Antiva. The dwarven kingdom of Orzammar, the free marches, Kirkwall, the Qunari homeland. All of Thedas my dear, bit by bit the night shall consume all. And that deep dark shall be eternal."

He paused for a moment and a wave of fire erupted from his hand, setting the chantry alight. The demons behind him howled in glee as they tore apart the people of the village. They always preferred being given orders for pure destruction and to spare none. The woman before him looked up at the burning chantry and shrieked. She turned to face him and collapsed to the ground again, quivering in fright.

"Yes, that is right. There is no Maker for you anymore." He said plainly. "We are but pawns in the games of other gods now. We all do what we must with scarce little choice. But damn if the violence and slaughter isn't worth it."

He cut of her head in a single smooth motion and hoped it was mostly painless.

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Morrigan simply stared for several moments in a state of shock as the bard's soft lips pressed against her own. She would not deny the pleasantness of the situation but as soon as she regained control of her faculties she shoved Leliana away. The orlesian complied by backing away just a bit but keeping their eyes locked. Golden staring into liquid blue.

"What in damnation was that?" The witch screamed. "Are you insane?"

"Morrigan, I…" The bard began before pausing. "If you don't want me to, I won't force anything."

Morrigan appreciated that somewhere. If Leliana desired, she could have forced anything she wanted with her new found powers. And yet, the witch knew she had become… closer to the bard. And it irked her to admit it, even to herself. And yet this little incident had distracted her completely from the million thoughts she had been having regarding her mother.

"I do not." The witch snapped, drawing back. "Why did you do it?"

"It felt natural." Leliana replied softly. "I've grown a lot closer to you. Do you deny that as well?"

"I… no." Morrigan said looking down. "But this is- I… we hated each other."

"We were almost friends once." The bard said, drawing a bit closer.

"Until I poisoned you." The witch muttered.

"And I beat you half to death." Leliana countered. "I would call us even on that account."

"And after all that, you would want to kiss me?" Morrigan demanded.

"Yes." The bard replied simply. "Did you think my teasing was entirely frivolous?"

"Why now?"

"Morrigan, your mother just showed up after you thought she was dead. She asked to meet us in the dragonbone wastes for reasons even I can't guess." The orlesian replied. "And she told us Alisa was releasing the elven gods in the fade which would mean we have to abandon our old plans. I thought it would be a lot for you to take in."

"It was." The witch replied simply. "And 'twas not a lot for you?"

"I saw some of it coming I suppose." Leliana said slowly. "I think I'm just a little more used to gods and mysterious forces than you are at this time."

"You still have not answered my original question." Morrigan stated.

"I wanted to comfort you, that's all." The bard responded gently. "I do care for you, you know."

The witch was acutely conscious of Leliana's body being extremely close to hers. She could not have denied the orlesian's attractiveness before the change and now it was far more than that.

"And you think I need comfort like some little child?" Morrigan managed to snap.

"Maybe that came out wrong." The bard said softly, running a finger lightly along the witch's face. "Think of it as a little stress relief."

"And that is all it is." Morrigan said with a slight smirk. "If you take this the wrong way, I will turn you to ash."

"Mm, Don't worry." Leliana said before kissing her again.

And the witch chose to give in. She intended it to be just that once. And now we can add another fateful moment to our growing pile.

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_Author's Note: Well, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I'm not sure but the next update may change this story rating to M but as said, I'm not certain. Anyway, do leave your feedback. I will update as soon as I can._

_To my reviewers:_

_Nightwish11606: Thanks! Well you got part of your conclusion to that kiss here. More will likely follow soon. And Flemeth will be back before you know it :)_

_interesting2125: Thanks! Yeah, I always thought of adding in a fade entity that was a little more than the the extremes of either a spirit or a demon. And the result was Blazt! Hope you like where I go with this._


	28. Behold the Demon

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Well, here's the next installment! First off, a warning for sexual situations and violence. And then, without further ado, let's jump in. Do leave your thoughts and I hope you enjoy the chapter._

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Chapter 28 – Behold the Demon

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Obsolescence and purpose. These things come in time and this time they had come to the grey wardens, or so it would seem. No more blights, never again. The taint which was once a curse on them and a blessing on the world was now only a curse on them and little more. And yet, it was not so simple. Did the old gods ever really think one front of opposition could be cast aside that simply? We may never know. The taint is so much more, you see. It is the willingness of a few people to cast aside their own lives and futures for the good of the masses. It is a sacrifice the likes of which is rarely seen. They would not simply cast aside their weapons if there were no archdemons. We may never know if the dragon gods saw it but that wretched demon did. Blazt, may the Maker damn him.

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Alisa watched Sylaise emerge from the shattered prison. The goddess' reddish hair flowed to her waist, whipping in a nonexistent wind. The red gown flowed similarly as bright orange eyes locked with Fen'harel's. Globes of flame sprang into her pale hands as she raised them. The flames rose to take on the form of a majestic eagle in the sky.

"There is no need for violence." The dread wolf growled.

Sylaise paused and her eyes turned to Ghilan'nain. The bird of flame relaxed and fizzled away. She lowered her hands and visibly relaxed a little.

"I would think some explanations are in order." She said calmly.

"Your assistance is needed." Fen'harel said flatly.

"Perhaps you should have considered that before imprisoning us." Sylaise said coldly.

"Sylaise, the dragons are returning." Ghilan'nain interjected. "As much as Fen'harel must face judgment, he may only do so if there is a future to look to."

"Explain. Quickly." The goddess said flatly.

The dread wolf locked eyes with the goddess and Alisa assumed they were communicating telepathically. A few moments later Fen'harel unlocked his gaze as Sylaise paused.

"I only agree with you in this matter because I must, Fen'harel." The goddess said eventually. "The dragons are a threat we can afford to ignore. However, if I were you, I would not expect Elgar'nan to forgive what you have done."

"We will deal with that as it comes." The dread wolf said dismissively.

Sylaise turned to Alisa who felt herself tense a bit. The goddess merely smiled and nodded.

"It would seem I owe you thanks for my release, young elf." She said. "From what Fen'harel tells me, you are… intimately involved in this affair. You certainly have courage, I will give you that. I hope it holds out."

The warden nodded as they turned to follow Fen'harel through the portal. The dread wolf paused for a moment. He then turned his head to look at Alisa and Lance.

"I think I should warn you, things on the other side do not fare too well." He replied. "Demons have wrought much destruction and the strength of the dragon gods grows by the hour."

"Is Morrigan alright? What about Alistair and the others?" Alisa asked quickly.

"Your companions are alive." Fen'harel responded. "It appears that Flemeth's daughter may have inspired some change in Leliana."

The warden glanced at Lance who gave her a comforting smile. It seemed too good to be true.

"See… she did it." He said, his voice cracking a bit.

"I would not make the error of trusting her just yet." The dread wolf growled. "The influence of the dragon gods does not die so easily. The other warden is alive, but I cannot say for how much longer."

"Wh-what do you mean?" Alisa asked.

A globe appeared in mid-air. Within it was visible a simple road bordered by forests. Alisa could see Alistair walking with Wynne, Zevran, Sten and Oghren. They were followed by a decent group of soldiers and a few mages. She saw them pause and stare down the road at the lone figure that stood blocking the path. It looked exactly like a revenant and yet in its hands it held the most unusual weapon Alisa had seen. It looked like a mage's staff with a blade on the end.

"It's just one revenant." Lance offered hopefully.

Ghilan'nain turned with a sad look in her eyes. "That is a pride demon of frightening power, young one."

"It would appear the dragon gods have found a new instrument for their will." Fen'harel stated. "I do not see this ending favorably for your companion."

"That demon can't possibly kill them all." Alisa muttered.

"I doubt that is his intention." Sylaise said. "He likely intends to kill only certain targets before escaping."

"Can't you help?" Lance blurted. "You're gods; you could crush that demon in an instant."

"Do you believe the dragon gods would be caught off guard if we chose to show ourselves?" The dread wolf replied. "They will have a response ready, trust me. I will not force a confrontation until all of us are free."

"There has to be _something _you can do!" Alisa said, the globe had vanished. She could no longer see what was going on.

"The varterral." Ghilan'nain said.

"They are few and are needed in too many places." Fen'harel growled in response. "Things are falling apart even with their interference. Tell me young elf, why should I commit such valuable resources to save a few mortals. Your attachment is not rational reasoning."

"Because unlike most, they would stand before even Dumat and fight." The warden replied. "They are unique among people, their help may prove essential."

"You have seen visions. I hope your statement is not frivolous." The dread wolf said. "To stand before Dumat is very different than standing before an archdemon, you know this. I lead you to the prisons of the gods because you have proven yourself. Even we dread the dragon lord. Why would they face him?"

"For life to persist. This is no different from a blight. They fight for the people of Thedas." Alisa said firmly, staring back into Fen'harel's eyes. "Please help them. Will you?"

The dread wolf bared his teeth. "Very well, but do not expect a miracle. They will have to survive till the Varterral can help."

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Alistair stared at the lone revenant on the path. He had deliberated with the others already. It was probably an ambush. His sword and shield were drawn and ready. He signaled the group of archers behind him as the arrows flew through the sky. The arrows cracked and broke against an invisible barrier as the revenant raised his hand.

"Ambush, defend yourselves!" Zevran barked as a small group of demons emerged from the forest on either side.

The templar turned only to find himself tugged through the air. He fought the tug to no avail. He rolled across the ground and stumbled to his feet as the revenant's blade dug into the ground. He turned to face the demon as a boulder knocked him several feet away. He rolled again, only to be hit by the backlash of a fireball from the demon.

He rose to his feet again to find Sten engaged in combat with the revenant. The qunari had managed to extricate himself from the other demons to help Alistair. His massive blade, Asala, swung in precise arcs only to be effortlessly deflected each time. The revenant merely laughed as they locked blades. Despite his massive strength, the demon pushed him back effortlessly. Alistair advanced, now much more cautious. The list of things that could easily overpower Sten was worryingly small.

"Parshaara. What is this creature?" The qunari muttered before renewing his assault.

Alistair struck from the other flank. They were both push away by the whirring swordstaff which the revenant handled with shocking skill. From the corner of his eye, the templar could see that his other companions were far too busy to help.

"So, you are a grey warden." The revenant said in a deep voice as a wave of cold erupted from his hand. Alistair and Sten barely avoided the freezing magic only to be struck by flying boulders. "You are competent, perhaps more than I expected. Before you die, I want you to know my name. Blazt."

The demon moved with unusual quickness as its swordstaff swung again and again. Blazt effortlessly bounced between the templar and the qunari. Alistair was barely managing to avoid blows. He tried to get closer to Sten but the revenant kept them apart. He almost felt as though he was dealing with a demon trained in combat. He let out a yelp of pain as the swordstaff shot into his stomach. He swung his sword which the revenant fell back from while parrying a blow from Sten.

Alistair fell to his knees, grimacing in pain as he tried to get up. He saw the qunari knocked down by a blaze of lightning. The demon strode quickly towards the templar, raising the swordstaff. Zevran jumped into the battle as one of his daggers plunged into the revenant's back. The demon swung around and shoved the elf away. The templar managed to note that the other demons were gone. He could see his other companions and the soldiers rushing to deal with the last threat.

"Do what you will, the warden dies here." Blazt said as he advanced.

A shield erected itself around the demon as it deflected arrows and magic. Alistair would have sworn it was over if he hadn't been swooped into the air as a chittering scream echoed through the air. Most of the soldier's gasped in awe as the revenant took a step back. As the Templar collapsed on the ground, he managed to catch a glimpse of a Varterral ducking back into the forest, trees snapping and breaking in its wake.

"It appears someone is watching over you, warden." Blazt said derisively as a veil tear opened behind him. "You will die at my hands yet."

The revenant disappeared into the portal as it sealed itself shut. It took a few moments for everyone to get their sense back as they moved to help the wounded. Alistair could feel Wynne's healing magic begin to take effect. He grimaced as the gaping wound began to stitch itself back together.

"This is a terrible wound, Alistair." The old mage cautioned. "It will take time to heal completely, a pity we do not have time to rest."

"Those… things saved me." He muttered.

"I do not have an explanation to give you in that regard but if I had to hazard a guess, I think they may have the intention of helping us." Wynne said.

"And what was that demon. It fought me and Sten together with ease."

"All I can tell you is that it must be a pride demon." She said before sighing. "And I fear we haven't seen the last of it."

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Morrigan sighed as Leliana kissed her neck from behind. She realized she didn't really regret it at all. It felt incredibly good and they both knew it wasn't _serious_. She turned and kissed the bard on the lips while cupping her face.

"Morrigan." The orlesian breathed as she nibbled at the witch's ear.

"What?" Morrigan asked as she kissed Leliana's neck while entangling her hands in the bard's long hair.

"Please get this armor off me." The orlesian's voice had an almost pleading tone.

The witch drew back and stared into Leliana's liquid blue eyes. They were almost begging.

"You… you can't get it off yourself, can you?" She asked softly.

The bard looked down at the jet black armor forged of the gods' magic. It was near impervious, it was impossibly light, it was probably the greatest piece of armor ever made and yet it was _theirs_.

"No." Leliana breathed, Morrigan barely heard her.

The witch gently probed her hands over the armor and eventually paused in surprise. She hadn't noticed this before.

"Wh-where are the clasps?" She asked.

"What clasps?" The bard said bitterly. "They made it a part of me, just like their magic."

"I will get it off, trust me." Morrigan said as she barely managed to slip her fingers between the breastplate and the orlesian's soft skin.

She tugged to no avail, with the black metal remaining stuck.

"This will probably hurt a lot." The witch said, biting her lip. "Are you sure?"

"Just get it off; I don't care how much it hurts." Leliana replied. "I don't want anything to do with them."

Morrigan took a deep breath as she let magic surge into her hands. She tugged lightly and felt the armor give way a little bit. The bard screamed as the witch gasped. The orlesian was bleeding; the armor had taken a good bit of skin where it had given way. Morrigan felt sick to her stomach. Leliana had not been jesting; it was really forged onto her. The witch saw the wound heal itself as the bard worked her magic.

"Please, get it all off." The bard pleaded again.

"No, it will kill you. It'll be like ripping your skin away." Morrigan snapped. "You will bleed far too much."

"Don't worry; my healing is enough to keep up." Leliana replied softly. "Take it slowly."

The witch sighed; the look in those blue eyes was far too moving.

"Fine." She said. "But if it gets too bad I will stop."

Leliana nodded as Morrigan resumed the slow process. It wrenched at her heart each time the orlesian screamed, blood ran in rivulets down the witch's arm and dripped onto the ground below. The bard's healing seemed barely enough to keep up with the hideous scars the armor left. Eventually, the now bloody breastplate clattered on the ground. Leliana was breathing heavily as she urged Morrigan to finish the job. As gently as she could, the witch tore away the gloves and plating on the legs.

The process seemed to take forever and Morrigan could not help but wince at every shriek and groan. She had never heard the bard cry out in pain since the transformation, she dreaded to think how much pain this process could cause. Eventually, the last piece fell upon the pile of bloody black armor as Leliana collapsed on the ground. The last few scars healed themselves as the orlesian's body relaxed a bit.

Despite the situation, the witch couldn't help but notice how beautiful Leliana's body was. It was practically impossible to look away from; she supposed the transformation had something to do with that. The bard eventually got up and wrapped her arms around Morrigan's neck, kissing her deeply. Eventually the broke apart, the witch's heart beating much faster.

"Thank you so much." The orlesian whispered. "I will never be able to repay you."

"But what will you wear now?" The witch asked, partially to lighten the atmosphere a bit. "Unless you wish to run around nude."

Leliana smiled in response. "I didn't tell you, but I got some ordinary leather armor at the village. I tried to get this off but couldn't. Thank you again."

"You are… welcome." Morrigan said, somewhat awkwardly. She then smirked. "As far as repaying me is concerned, I think I have an idea."

She drew the bard close who giggled in response. "But Morrigan, I'm afraid you're wearing entirely too much."

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"This is ridiculous." Toth barks. "She removed the armor as well, things are falling apart."

"She is even making love to the witch." Urthemiel sings. "Things are not going as expected."

Razikale begins to protest but Dumat's voice drowns it out.

"Actually, we have lost our hold on nothing." His voice echoes. "She cannot simply strip her powers away. Our freedom is in no peril and Thedas has seen better days."

"In that case we should assault the girl with as many demons as we can." Lucasan states. "Force her to use her powers until we are free."

"No!" Razikale snaps. "Do not force things. You must remember that one piece is missing, although not for long. With that in place we will safely be able to force a reaction."

"That may give the mortals enough time to rally together." Andoral says icily.

"Blazt is seeing to that already." Zazikel replies.

"Blazt has sought my decree to take a course of action." Dumat says. "I believe he has stumbled upon something useful. It will cause sufficient chaos and simultaneously send a message."

"What course of action is this?" Toth asks.

"He intends to tear down Weisshaupt."

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_Author's Note: Well, I hope you liked it. Didn't start off with a history lesson on Blazt this time but we'll get back to that. Do leave your feedback. I'll update as soon as possible._

_To my reviewers:_

_Nightwish11606: Thanks! The shining is one of my favorite horror movies of all time and I quite liked the book too. Also, I don't like Anora much either but I try to write her the way I think she would be in a given situation. Leliana and Morrigan, much more to come in that department!_

_interesting2125: Thanks for the review! You bring up a very interesting point that I intend to answer over the course of the story. I'll stop talking about that here because I'm afraid I'll give everything away :P We all knew the witch would give in eventually (right?), I was just trying to find the right time relative to other events._


	29. Blackened soil

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Well, here's the next update. You'll get a bit more history this time around, in a sense. Hope you like it and do leave your thoughts._

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Chapter 29 – Blackened Soil

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Blazt stared at the target that lay before him. He was fully conscious of the large demon army gathering behind him. It was just that he had no interest in forcing them into an organized form. He would give them a while to do it themselves and then he would start killing. It got results much faster. He could make out panicked activity within the port city. They knew the attack was coming and they were scrambling to mount a defense. Jader was the closest Orlesian city to Ferelden on top of serving as a vital port. That, in itself, was sufficient reasoning to assault it.

Blazt's eyes worked quickly, the city was certainly better defended than the scattered villages they had burnt so far. The few warships docked in the harbor would probably prove to be a concern. He could see the ballistae twirling into position. The city had a motley division of guards and soldiers and a small group of grey wardens could always be found here. The chantry here was large enough for a battalion of templars to call the city home. This didn't bother him overmuch, his next target would be so much harder and yet so much more satisfying.

He twirled his swordstaff casually noticing an arcane horror floating towards him. He turned around slowly; the army was now in some sort of formation. He almost made himself laugh, demons in formation was a sight indeed. Ah, but they would be running amok soon enough.

"We strike at your order… lord." The arcane horror rasped. Blazt noticed the slight distaste in the demon's voice. He didn't much care; having pride demons show respect and obey orders was not the easiest task in the world.

"Then march." Blazt replied. "Send in the… larger ones first."

"The city is well defended." The arcane horror said distastefully. "I do not see this ending in our favor."

"I do not see this conversation ending in _your _favor." Blazt whispered. "When I say march, march."

The demons began a somewhat reluctant march towards Jader. Blazt strolled alongside casually, he wasn't much concerned. The average human couldn't tell the difference between a reluctant demon and an eager one. The massive pride demons smashed themselves against the gate and wall as dust filled the air and debris flew. A storm of arrows fell upon the demons as they shrank away for a moment before battering themselves upon the walls once more. Magic joined the arrows from within the city as several demons sent their own volleys of magic.

The gate and wall did break at the cost of all the fade beasts. The demons charged into the city, now screaming joyously. Blazt took his time entering the city. The battle raged across the streets now. The revenant could already tell that things were not going as well as he might have hoped. A fireball flew from his outstretched palm, igniting one of the warships in the harbor. After taking an additional moment to survey the scene, he leapt into the fray.

He cut down a group of guards in moments and proceeded to reduce a ballista to dust before he forged on. He was still drinking in every detail of what was occurring behind him. Smoke filled the air as several of the ships and buildings burnt. Screams filled the air and corpses littered the streets. Blazt paused as he saw a group of people dispatch a large number of demons. And there were only three of them. A man wielding a sword and shield, a female mage and a male elf archer. Such an awkward little group. The warrior's armor had of course given everything away quite quickly. The grey warden emblem embossed across his breastplate was all Blazt needed to see. Always neutralize the greatest threats first.

He was upon them in an instant. The warrior caught the first blow on his shield, blocked the next one with his blade. The third strike tore through his armor and into his heart. Blazt ripped the swordstaff out as an arrow pierced his arm. He threw his weapon through the air. It made a sickening noise as it embedded itself in the archer's throat. He avoided a bolt of lightning as a ball of flame formed in his hand. With great satisfaction he slammed the fireball into the mages face. He tugged his weapon free of the elf's throat before surveying the area again. He noticed a desire demon rushing towards him.

"Lord, we cannot win here." She cried. "We are outnumbered and scattered. The templars have already helped eliminate most of the arcane horrors."

"Where?" He hissed.

The demon pointed as Blazt rushed in that direction. The desire demon followed with a moment's hesitation. As he moved through the streets, he could clearly notice a distinct lack of demons. He watched a few templars kill an arcane horror. He noticed the five mages behind them. So there were more grey wardens in Jader after all.

"We should retreat." The desire demon whispered.

"Hardly. Look there." Blazt said indifferently as he pointed into the sky.

The desire demon craned her head to look.

"That disturbance… is that a veil tear?" She asked unsteadily. "It's enormous."

"Yes." Said Blazt as he withdrew a little. He did not wish to attract too much attention at this point. Not when most of the demons were already dead.

High up above in the sky, the veil tear expanded to a majestic size. A limb seemed to test it uneasily for a moment. Hesitantly one massive translucent blue claw emerged. The creature gradually forced another limb across a barrier it did not comprehend. Apparently satisfied, it obeyed the whispers in its mind. The beast tore through into the sky as the portal behind it closed. It descended upon the city amidst the shrieks of the people.

"Look how much their strength has grown." Blazt said as he advanced towards the mages who were distracted. "That being is majestic."

"A… spirit dragon." The desire demon said reverently as she stared at the enormous, translucent blue dragon that was ripping through the city amidst storms of lightning.

Blazt tore through the unaware mages and templars in seconds. This is why he enjoyed the task of leading the old gods' armies. He was in command of creatures like no other. He watched the defenders break apart and try their best to flee the port city. He didn't blame them. They were in no state to fight a spirit dragon. These great beasts would be the hammer he would bring down upon Weisshaupt.

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Leliana runs through the forest, the trees are twisted and black. She doesn't know why she is running but she must. There is something to see, her gut is telling her that. She emerges from the shade of the trees and freezes. She watches the group sacrifice a man, woman and child. Their blood seeps into the black, dying earth. Zazikel laughs as he towers above the collection of people. He tosses scraps of meat, they will eat just enough for their stomachs to not ache. The god of chaos flies into the air, apparently satisfied with the offering.

The sky is dark as well, they never see the sun. Leliana doesn't know why things are making sense, foreign thoughts flood into her mind. These people are jealous of they who live in the glorious fields and forests. At the centre of which lies the jewel that is Arlathan. And a hundred cities like it. The ones with pointed ears live forever, they pray and receive blessings. These people pray, they spill the blood of their beloved. Their reward is to live another day. To sleep another night on the cold, dead ground in the shade of demonic trees.

Dumat's aura has killed the land, it is nourished only by blood and spews only twisted life. These people live short lives, their former glories lost. They are slaves to the will of the dragons. They are no longer similar to residents of the great cities. Life is no longer the same across Thedas. Humans and elves. In cruel honesty, shemlen is such an accurate term. The dragons took their lives but they did repay. They are taller now, generally better built and have a brilliant talent for cruelty now. Paltry power in exchange for so much.

The very gods who turned them from the Maker, now grind them closer and closer to oblivion. They have no choice; the dragons will slaughter any rebellion. They seethe at the gods of Arlathan in private. Not because they have not fought, but because they are blind. Or scared. With each passing day, the green forests slowly slip into darkness as Dumat takes more of the world for himself. The children of the stone have thus far escaped his unholy gaze but that will not continue forever.

Images of flash through Leliana's mind. The dragon lord was not always as he is. Not always the embodiment of silence and death. He once bore a form too glorious for words. And then, he changed. He desired everything and found the means to take it all. Even the Maker is blind to what he has wrought. Without knowing it, he has created his own inversion. Where he made and created, Dumat found the capacity to destroy. To unmake existence itself.

And yet, thus far he has not unleashed his dark fury upon the world. Leliana can guess why. If he is to destroy, he must find a way to create first. And he is not the Maker, though he does seek to usurp his father. She looks again at the sky and the trees and the ground. She smells ash and death on the wind. They had the world once before and they seek to take it again. She is releasing them. With each step she takes, the past once again becomes the future.

She wonders what happened those many years ago. How this nightmare ended. Did the gods of Arlathan win? It seems impossible. The dragon lord is a god among gods now. As the Maker is the embodiment of the beginning, thus is Dumat the embodiment of the end. With a cruel pang, she realizes that she is his messiah as Andraste was once the Maker's messiah.

"We had the world once. And it shall be ours again." A terrible voice echoes behind her.

She turns but she already knows what she will see. She stares fearfully into the white eyes of Dumat. The dragon begins to grow. Leliana mutely shakes her head; she does not desire to see the true form of the god of silence again.

"You seek to escape us. You seek to betray us." The dragon lord states. "The armor torn away, you desire to do the same with your blessing."

"It's a curse." She says as she crumples to the ground. She feels a tear roll down her cheek. The trees around her are laughing; their twisted branches are horrid groping claws. The ground sizzles like acid. The clouds rain shadows in terrifying shapes.

"You are ours. Why do you even try o resist?" Dumat says, his form is now threatening to consume the world. "You release us either way, best to do it in our good graces."

"What are you? You're just supposed to be dragons." She whispers pointlessly. Old thoughts are creeping their way into her mind. That is a good thing. Her old life seems almost within reach again.

"Did you honestly believe the lords of the old world would be just dragons?" The voice responds. "I offer you another chance to embrace our will."

Leliana does the unthinkable. Only a fool would do it, no one would _understand _and yet pursue her course. She attacks Dumat. Magic bursts from her palms in desperation. To her horror Dumat's form only grows more oppressive.

"You would destroy me with my magic?" He mocks. "Insolent mortal, I cannot be stopped. Greater beings than you have understood this over the ages."

She aimlessly batters her hand against the dragon lord incomprehensible shape. As expected, it does nothing.

"You were stopped before. The world didn't stay like this." She shouts, more for her own comfort.

"What happened to us before cannot happen again."

"_Why_?" She screams.

"Because I wish to remake the world to my will."

"You can't create." She says helplessly. She has to fight the monstrosity around her.

"You do not see it, of course you don't." Dumat says. "Do not think we will let you go."

From somewhere in the shadow, the dragon lord's gaping maw materializes. Leliana leaps within, anything to end the nightmare.

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Leliana's eyes fluttered open as she felt Morrigan shaking her. She found herself sweating and breathing heavily. The witch stroked her face gently, much to her surprise.

"Nightmare?" Morrigan asked. "You were shaking and crying in your sleep."

"They won't let me go." The bard whispered. The sight of her own naked form was a relief. The armor was still gone. "Kill me, just kill me."

"Be quiet." The witch snapped. "Fight them why won't you? Would you rather take the coward's way out?"

Leliana raised her eyes to meet Morrigan's.

"I'm the only way they have for returning." She said.

"And you think they will let you die?" The witch asked with a raised eyebrow.

The bard laughed softly. "You know you have trouble when you can't even kill yourself."

"Kill them instead." Morrigan said.

The orlesian cracked a small smile. "I never thought you'd have a _good _influence on me."

The witch returned the smile after a moment. "What now?"

"We really should go to the dragonbone wastes. I want to see what Flemeth has planned." She replied, letting the rational side and Razikale's knowledge wash over her again. "But we still have a few hours till daylight."

"Oh?" Morrigan said with a smirk before kissing Leliana. "Whatever shall we do?"

The bard felt herself relax. There were some things she should say soon. As soon as she knew how to handle the situation better.

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_Author's Note: Well, hope you like it. Do leave your feedback. I should get some time to update in the near future._

_To my reviewers:_

_Nightwish11606: Thanks! Yeah, I actually wanted to humanize the old gods just a bit so that they could have personalities. Leli and Morri, plenty of that left ;)_

_interesting 2125: Thanks! I'm sure it was worth the pain if you ask them! Speaking of which, maybe I should ask them in a few chapters time ;) _


	30. Civilized Conversation

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Well, we've hit 30 chapters. I actually hadn't expected this story to end up as long as it's looking to be. But that's the way it shaped up. This chapter is a bit... unusual. It's more of a lead in to the next leg of the story. Anyway, hope you enjoy it and do leave your feedback._

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Chapter 30 – Civilized Conversation

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Leliana looked around the beautiful hall. Tables were laid across the ballroom, as though in preparation for a ball. They were decorated finely and what troubled the bard was that she recognized it. _Maker, not another dream. _In all honesty, she had expected it. Removing the armor and making love to someone was probably as much defiance as the old gods seemed willing to take. It gave her faith that she was doing something right. And yet, this was unusual. This was…

"This is Lady Cecile's ballroom, yes?" Came a familiar voice from behind her. "After all, it is from your mind."

Leliana spun around and uttered a small gasp. _Marjolaine…_

And yet something was wrong. It was the bard master's corpse in cruel essence. Broken and burnt. The way she had left her when she… killed her. But this didn't make sense. The corpse managed a crude smile that more resembled a grimace. The eyes faded away for a moment to be replaced by glowing white. An instant later the eyes had reverted. The bard took an involuntary step back.

"Greetings once more, messiah of the end." Said the corpse in Marjolaine's usual accent as it took a seat at one of the tables. She could hear the leg bone make a disgusting crack. "Please, do have a seat."

"Dumat… what…" Leliana breathed as she took another step away.

"It is… interesting that your old mentor was always bound to haunt your psyche, one way or another." The corpse mused nonchalantly. "Either you're too much like her or you live in worry if she's still alive. You may have deserved your fair share of revenge but you must admit you enjoyed breaking her body. Look yourself."

Leliana stayed silent. This couldn't possibly be the dragon lord, she had seen him before and he was very different from this. And yet, those glowing eyes…

"Ah, but this form unnerves you." The corpse continued, overemphasizing the accent just a bit. "I did come here for… cordial conversation."

The form changed in a second. The eyes hovered at glowing white for several seconds before fading into black pupils. A tanned man with short cropped hair and a black robe was seated on the chair now. He smiled.

"You are looking at Archon Thalsian, young one." He said. "The one who learnt blood magic from us in ages past."

The bard couldn't bring herself to reply. The situation was far too unusual. Every time she had looked upon Dumat he had been a terrifying sight to behold. And now he took the form of an ordinary human. She had always thought the dragon lord would have found such forms far too demeaning to consider. And why the sudden urge to… converse?

"That isn't a tevinter mage's robes." She said before she could stop herself.

"Astute." He said as he waved his hand casually. He stared at the glass of wine that had appeared before him for a moment. He then grasped it in his hand as Leliana involuntarily took a seat opposite him. It almost felt as though she was being compelled to do it.

"Thalsian was once an outcast." He continued. "However, he managed to contact us with the Lyrium circle he carved with his few followers. By virtue of the blood magic he learned, he became Archon of the imperium and the art spread among the magisters. He honored his end of the deal by building a temple to forever house the Lyrium circle."

"Are you… Dumat?" Leliana asked slowly.

"You already know the answer." The god replied shortly. "Does it surprise you that the lord of silence would take such a form and perform such actions? You must realize, I am whatever I desire to be. And much of this has come from your mind."

"Why?" The bard asked simply. She was trying to fight the complacency and relaxation that was infecting her thoughts.

The god sighed and took a sip of wine. "You chose to betray us, obviously with your own plans and motivations in place. All I am here to do is grant you perspective."

"What does that mean?" Leliana asked with narrowed eyes.

The god chuckled softly before replying. "You did well you know. You have all the other six fooled in the way you wanted. It is a pity that I see through your intentions."

"And what intentions would those be?"

Dumat eyed her over the rim of the glass, smiling pleasantly. "You never did love Alisa Surana, did you? Such a precious little lie. Perhaps you were a bit enamored with her in the beginning but that passed on to friendship didn't it? And no one can blame you if the elf got the wrong signals. And yet it was a lie the other six believed."

"I do love her." Leliana replied, her voice slightly unsteady.

The figure before her merely took another sip of wine. "As a friend. Just because I do not care for things does not imply I do not understand them. I am a god, Leliana, the greatest of the gods. Nothing is beyond my comprehension."

"Wh-what would I gain by lying?"

"A lot." Dumat replied. "When you made love to the witch you expected us to see it as a blessing. So that when you eventually confronted Alisa, the emotional trauma would topple you into our control. It would have crushed you to see her with someone else. Or so we were led to believe. That lie was an intelligent way of getting what you wanted while inspiring us to not interfere. Does it not surprise you that I am the only one to confront you?"

"What I… wanted?" Leliana questioned, feigning confusion. Her right hand was snaking its way to where here daggers should be.

"And you persist in your futile attempt to maintain your deception. Amusing." The god laughed. "Part of what you wanted is what you already got. Does the name Morrigan sound familiar?"

_Maker, no! No one knew, how could Dumat…_

"Your expression betrays you." The dragon lord said softly. "It was never Alisa was it, it was always the witch. I must admit, you were quite careful. She herself has no idea. Nothing escapes me, I'm afraid."

"That makes no sense." The bard said quickly. "How could I possibly-"

"You know the circumstances better than I do." The god cut her off. "Drop this charade, it is quite pointless."

"What difference does it make either way?"

"Enough difference, in the end." Dumat replied. "It is not how much this matters, in particular. It is more that none of your secrets are safe from me. You seek a way to escape our control. And then you believe you can use the powers we granted you to seal the prison. Let me tell you, it won't work."

_He knows this too? Has he just been toying with me this whole time?_ She was breathing more heavily now. She could feel the plans she had tried to lay crumble around her.

"Why not?" She stumbled.

"The answer to that is quite simple. I'm surprised it hasn't occurred to you yet." He said, taking another casual sip of wine. "The exertion you would make in calling upon your powers would break the gate open long before you have a chance to seal it. Besides, those powers are bonded to your soul. They are a part of you now; you can't simply get rid of them."

Leliana stayed silent. Under the table she was playing with her dagger. She hesitated to use it. She wanted to know how much the dragon lord was aware of.

"I also know that Fen'harel is in the process of releasing his fellow gods. It would seem Alisa Surana is helping them." Dumat continued, as if he was reading her mind. "The dread wolf's actions are predictable and I'm afraid that is the only way they can be. For example, he must release Ghilan'nain before he releases Andruil."

"Why?" The bard ventured to ask. She tried to ignore the hollow feeling that was grasping at her heart.

"Because Andruil is one of the more aggressive gods. She will not forgive Fen'harel so easily." The god elaborated casually. "She shares a bond with Ghilan'nain though and the dread wolf will use that to compose the goddess of the hunt. By extension, he must free Mithal before Elgar'nan, Dirthamen before Falon'din and for obvious reasons he shall free the All-Father last. The order of his actions is not difficult to guess. We shall be prepared for them when the time comes."

Dumat paused a minute before chuckling. "Is this sufficient perspective? Any plan you had to stop me, I am already aware of. What is the point of trying? You see Leliana, joining us is really the only option you have."

The bard shouted and lunged with the dagger in hand. She had heard enough. The dragon lord was systematically dismantling any hope she had nurtured. He moved away with inhuman speed and shook his head sadly.

"How uncivilized." He said sadly. "It seems you wish to fight a lost battle. Be my guest."

The god vanished as the dream began to fade away. Leliana noted that Flemeth had not been mentioned. Even if she didn't trust the shapeshifter, she was willing to grasp at any thread, no matter how thin.

And yet, Dumat knew almost everything. The dragon lord had been so... different. She had been foolish enough to think she understood him. She had actually thought things were looking up. She would have to find another way. Something, anything.

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_Author's Note: Well, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Back to the main plot with the next chapter. Do leave your thoughts. I'll update as soon as I can._

_To my reviewers:_

_Nightwish11606: Thanks! Leli going mad again, you'll have to wait and see ;) Glad you liked the nightmare scene. And trust me, my imagination is up there too :P_

_interesting2125: Thanks! And yes, things are certainly not that simple on the whole. Glad you liked Lel's little nightmare!_

_Trystan438: Thanks! You can probably tell that the premise is borrowed from Nightwish's story. I just took a different take on it. Hope you like the rest of it!_

_woah what: Well, because I'm only allowed two tags :/ Maybe you could suggest which one I should cut off to add the drama bit. Feedback much appreciated!_


	31. The Goddess of Craft

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: And here is the next installment. Time for more unusual and possibly unexpected things! Do leave your feedback and I hope you enjoy it._

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Chapter 31 – The Goddess of Craft

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Dumat had anticipated much of what was happening at that time. And yet, what must be remembered is that his awareness was not a signal to stop what had to be done. You see, for all that the dragon lord sees, he is blind. And that is because he can only see what he has already seen before.

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"And what manner of demon are you?" Morrigan snapped at the black robed man before her. "I am not some weakling mage who you can prey upon in the fade."

The man gave her a curious look and glanced around. The witch could easily make out the terrain of the fade; after all it was where all mages went when they dreamt. She was also extremely annoyed since she had been lying peacefully with Leliana. She tore her thoughts away from that, this demon worried her. It was unusual for them to take such human forms, let alone drag mages into the fade. The figure smiled as the entire image around her warped to that of her mother's hut in the Korcari Wilds.

"You think I am a demon?" The figure asked in an amused tone. "This is not quite the fade. It is more of your mind if that makes sense to you."

Morrigan drew her staff; the feeling of unease was growing stronger. Demons had created illusions for her before, like the sloth demon in the circle tower. And yet, she had seen through them effortlessly. Here, she knew it was a hallucination and yet her senses refused to accept that.

"If you are not a demon, then what are you?" She asked carefully.

The man still showed no signs of animosity, a smile still playing across his tanned features. "You are no fool, I'm sure you can guess." He said. "Leliana must have mentioned something about dreams…"

"Leliana, what…" She muttered stepping back. The only possibility that occurred to her was entirely impossible. The figure spoke again.

"We have never truly met. Dear witch, I am Dumat, the tevinter dragon god of silence." He said, his voice growing more menacing with each word. The last word practically emerged as a hiss.

Morrigan refused to believe it. It had to be a trick of some sort. She had no connection with the old gods; it made no sense that they should be able to confront her.

"No connection?" The figure laughed, as though reading her mind. "When you dream, you go to the fade. Our power is growing and we now wield some influence in that realm. Also, you would do well to remember whose naked body you are pressed against. Magic is a sensitive thing, you know."

The witch swallowed her fear. Disbelieving this creature was becoming harder and harder. "Well, if this is an old god then I am not impressed." She said.

"Dear, sweet _vulnerable _Morrigan." Dumat cooed with false sweetness.

"I am not vulnerable." Morrigan managed to snap but could not quite muster the courage to make an attack. Instead, she took an involuntary step back.

"Is that why you are at the mercy of emotions you do not understand?" The man asked darkly. "Is that why you fear them so? I must say, for the purpose we originally had in mind, Flemeth did an exceptional task in raising you. The only reason you maintain that harsh, cold exterior is because you are terrified of the alternative. You quake at the mere thought of dependence and weakness."

"Be silent." The witch hissed. But somewhere his words struck a chord. And yet, she saw nothing wrong with his reasoning. They were weaknesses, and that was bad. _I must say, for the purpose we originally had in mind, Flemeth did an exceptional task in raising you._ Was her attitude purely a product of being bred like some domesticated animal? Was she looking at things the wrong way? Or was Dumat merely trying to weaken her? Her mind was spinning of its own volition.

"So confused." The dragon lord said softly. "It was amusing when you spilled feelings for the warden, Alisa Surana. What motivated that? On the spot desperation? Did you even know what your words _meant_? For all that you pretend to be, you are also incredibly naïve."

Morrigan stayed silent. _Did _she even know what 'love' meant? Had Flemeth merely hammered in false ideals? Or were they right? All she felt was a maddening surge of hatred at both her mother and the creature before her. She instinctively reached for her magic.

"Who do you _care _for more, Leliana or Alisa?" The god asked with a small smile. The witch froze and her magic fizzled away. "You must realize I'm only helping you. Regardless, I believe there is nothing more to say."

The man paused for a moment before speaking again. "Actually, it is interesting that you have spoken so easily with me. Physical form really does deceive mortal eyes easily."

Morrigan gasped instinctively as the man's form changed to become a vast dragon. It had no real color; it was more like looking upon a great void. The eyes were a glowing white that was terrifyingly hypnotic. Any doubts the witch had were gone, this truly was a god. And that frightened her.

"And now, witness why gods are different from mere spirits." The dragon roared. "Bow before the king of gods. Quake beneath my reality."

The witch could only quiver as the form of the beast before her grew in impossible shapes and directions. Within seconds she had been consumed.

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When she awoke, the first thing she was conscious of was a distinct wetness on her cheek. She had cried in her sleep, or in her nightmare to be precise. But she couldn't bring herself to question the tears; the form of the god had been so _offensive_. The second thing she was conscious of was warm arms enveloping her. She knew it was Leliana before the scent and before she felt her hands drift through the long red hair. She wondered if that was what the bard suffered through each time she slept. Despite herself, she could feel her heart welling.

And yet, in the back of Morrigan's mind, Dumat's words were still ringing. She had pondered them enough; there was only one real choice. She would confront Flemeth herself; it was something she had never done. She wondered why. Had she been afraid? Afraid to learn that she had been raised for nothing but a certain task in mind. That she had been forged to her 'mother's' convenience. Or to look at it now, forged by the orders of some dark god.

"That must have been a terrible dream." She heard Leliana whisper gently in her ear. The bard's voice sounded uneasy as well, however.

"I- I dreamt of Dumat." Morrigan stammered a bit. "Not just a dream. He… he appeared to me."

"What?" The orlesian gasped as she drew back with disbelief etched across her features. "How is that possible? He isn't free, he cannot simply contact who he wishes."

"He said 'twas because of my physical closeness to you at the time." The witch replied.

"I'm sorry Morrigan." Leliana said, her face falling a bit. "I never wanted to subject you to-"

"I am not blaming you." The witch said firmly. Once upon a time she would indeed have blamed her. She was forced to question whether the change was for the better or not.

"What happened?" The bard asked, staying silent about her own vision.

"He simply attempted to… intimidate me." Morrigan lied smoothly. "He displayed his true form."

Leliana's face twitched from a moment, remembering old horrors. "That must have been terrible. I am so sorry…"

"I told you to stop, I do not blame you." The witch snapped. "Besides, 'tis about time I met the great dark god we are supposed to be afraid of."

The bard cracked a small, involuntary smile. "Well, are you afraid?"

"Is it possible not to be?" Morrigan shot back.

Leliana shook her head. "No, I don't think Dumat's true form can be looked at calmly. I do not think a mortal could look upon the true form of any god and not fear it."

The witch glanced at the rising sun in the few seconds of silence that followed. She was fully aware that they were both nude and had said not a word about the previous night.

"Shall we get moving?" She asked eventually. That night had been a night to remember, for a number of reasons.

"Do you want to take your mother up on her offer, Morrigan?" The bard asked softly.

The witch had been pondering that decision for some time now. She had originally thought not to go, that the less she had to do with Flemeth the better off she would be. And yet, now she knew she had to confront her mother.

"Yes, I think we should go." Morrigan said firmly as she picked her clothes up and began to dress.

Leliana began putting on her leather armor as she packed the bloody pieces of her old, black armor into their pack.

"I agree, I think we should find out what she wants and intends." The bard replied. Flemeth might be the only thing the dragon lord hadn't anticipated. She then paused for a moment before speaking again. "About last night…"

The witch smiled genuinely for the first time that day. "I quite enjoyed it; I take it you did as well."

She could see relief wash over the orlesian's features as she nodded and they began to leave. Morrigan felt Leliana grasp her hand from behind. She turned around to find the bard biting her lip. The witch thought it odd to see Leliana so nervous these days. Eventually, she spoke.

"Morrigan, I- I have to say this." She stammered before taking a deep breath. "I've… fallen in love with you."

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Alisa watched Lance follow Ghilan'nain and Sylaise through the fade portal. The dread wolf stopped near the portal and turned to face her. She stared into the wolf's deep pupils. She had thanked them profusely for saving Alistair and they had accepted the praise quite happily. Since then, she and Lance had been speaking as they journeyed to the next portal. Answers were hard to come by and they had tried to probe the gods to no avail.

"You have earned some answers, little elf." Fen'harel growled as he turned to face her. He then grinned by baring his teeth. "Or to be truthful, you have earned more questions."

"What do you mean?" The warden asked.

The dread wolf turned to walk through the portal with one last statement. "The old gods were not always thus. Gods are neither good nor evil, we choose what to represent. Remember that despite our choices, our true nature is unmarred. All that changes is the mortals' perception of us. The only other thing you need to know is that all gods desire the same thing, in the end."

Alisa pondered for a moment before striding through the portal. She found herself on another platform floating in the middle of nowhere. It was very small compared to the others though. The prison door was mere steps away.

"So, what's going to kill us here?" Lance asked dryly.

"It will work differently here." Fen'harel replied as he walked onto the platform and turned to face them. "I am going to pose questions to you, Alisa Surana. If they are satisfactory, you may pass."

Neither Alisa nor Lance felt the need to question what would happen if the answers were not satisfactory. The warden felt her friend place a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked in a concerned voice.

"I'm ready." Alisa said firmly as she stepped onto the platform and locked eyes with the dread wolf. The experience was extremely disconcerting.

"It should be obvious that you cannot lie." Fen'harel said before beginning. "You kill Leliana and the world survives. Spare her and the world dies. What decision would you take?"

The warden took a deep breath and answered eventually in a bitter voice. "I'd kill her."

"Your friends are suffering unimaginably torturous deaths around you." The dread wolf growled. "You can either save them or destroy the dragon lord. Choose."

Alisa shut her eyes in a fit of anger. She was scared to admit the answers because she felt they would all hate her for it. And yet, she could not lie. "I'd destroy Dumat. The world has to… come first."

"How noble." Fen'harel said blankly. "Final question. Would you rather let us reign over your world or the old gods? You cannot lie."

"Neither." The warden sighed eventually, dreading what was to come. "We have the right to guide our own future."

To her immense surprise, the dread wolf stepped out of the way. "Release June, then. You would do well to remember that if we desire to take your world you could not stop us."

Alisa hesitated a moment before breaking down the door before her. She stepped back and watched June emerge. The goddess had an elegant and calm face with shoulder length black hair. She wore a simple grey robe and her eyes were a simple blue.

"I trust there is an adequate explanation." She said as she glanced at Sylaise, Ghilan'nain and Fen'harel.

The dread wolf locked her into telepathic conversation.

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The lord of nightmares had been thinking of days long past. He sometimes wondered how much it was worth to free his brethren. They had been so reluctant back then. And Dumat has played it out perfectly. Killed communication in a… creative way and then almost started on a quest to consume Arlathan. This time there would be no miracles. Either way, it was time to release those who would react in a more _hostile _manner. They could start with Andruil.

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_Author's Note: Well, I hope you enjoyed it. Do leave your thoughts. Next update will be as soon as possible._

_Nightwish11606: Thanks! The answer about Lel's feelings should come clear soon. Dumat's messing around has reasons soon to be revealed. The elven gods shall soon be free, most likely :P_

_interesting2125: Thanks for the review! Apparently Dumat enjoys annoying cute witches too :P I'm probably revealing the obvious but he has a bit of an agenda in doing this. Wondering if anyone's getting close to guessing it but I doubt it ;) Yeah, Lel's plan was a bit convoluted but then again she was trying to outsmart gods and I guess we'll see how it plays out._


	32. Council

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: History lesson chapter! Akin to 14 and 24. Hope you enjoy it and do leave your thoughts._

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Chapter 32 – Council

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_And he strides among the treetops, And is taller than the trees_

_And his voice through all the garden, is thunder sent to bring_

_~Excerpt from Lepanto, by G.K. Chesterton_

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Fen'harel's footfalls are silent as he strides across the exquisite, white marble floor. He pays scarce attention to the beautiful wood carvings that hang along the hallway or to the massive pillars gilded with gold. He has seen it often enough before. The only marvel is that it was built by mortals and not gods. It is a grand tribute to them, a valuable gift and they accepted it. This vast palace was a reason for the gods to descend from heaven and live among the mortals. The dread wolf muses that agreement was obvious. Gods have a weakness for prayer and servitude, it is almost instinctive.

This residence in the heart of Arlathan is the core of the creators' kingdom. It stretched much further, not so long ago. And now the outlying forests are dying and withering. With each day, the dragon lord takes another fetid step into paradise and the gods take no action. The dread wolf has seen enough after his encounter with Dumat. If the dragon gods are not stopped now, the precious kingdom of the creators shall be blackened and slain.

He strides into the grand hall, the centre of the palace. Here, the creators hold council when it is needed. The beautiful, glowing chamber has been unused for some time. But this time, Fen'harel insists. He glances around the chamber to find the others sitting upon their ornate thrones. He lopes to the middle of the chamber and settles himself. He glances up and meets the expectant gaze of Elgar'nan.

"You have been absent for some time now, Fen'harel." The All-Father states. "And now you call for urgent meeting. Explain yourself."

The dread wolf resists the urge to tear the room apart. The obliviousness of his fellows is beginning to irk him.

"Do you not see?" He growls. "Even as we speak, the worshippers of the dragons spill blood in our lands. With each passing day the dragon gods claim more and more of the forests. What were once trees are now offences to life. We must act."

"And what do you propose we do?" Elgar'nan says, his voice suddenly sounds incredibly tired.

"We must find a way to fight them and stop them." Fen'harel replies simply.

The god of vengeance laughs mirthlessly. "Do you remember what happened the last time? This time we will not walk away alive."

"We cannot simply give up our kingdom." The dread wolf raises his voice.

"We are better off holding them at the gates of Arlathan." Mythal says softly.

"And what of the outer reaches?" Andruil speaks out in response.

"A necessary sacrifice." The All-Father says dismissively.

"That is unacceptable." Falon'din replies flatly. Dirthamen does not speak.

"You speak as though there is a choice." Elgarn'nan says bitterly. His eyes then harden. "I have made my decision. We will hold at Arlathan. Nonetheless, it is worth seeing the state of the outer reaches."

He rises to his full majestic height, shimmering robes billowing around him. He strides to the corner of the chamber where the great mirror stands. He looks at the Eluvian before gently pressing a hand upon it. Gentle ripples spread across the surface as the mirror makes contact. With a sudden cry, the god of vengeance pulls away. The faint ripples are now almost violent. Their colour is jet black and an unusual hum fills the air. A terrible voice echoes across the chamber as the magic mirror rattles in its lithe frame.

"Even your magics are mine." The voice is recognized instantly. Fen'harel growls. The dragon lord now steals even the Eluvian from them. "Your mirrors are tainted now, belonging only to me. And you never even saw their potential."

The dread wolf leaps instinctively and races towards the now black mirror. With but a moment to spare he shatters it and the glass rains down upon the floor. Slowly, silence descends upon the chamber once more. They have all seen it. They all saw the great limb try and snake its way through the mirror.

"Was he using the Eluvian as a portal?" Ghilan'nain asks uneasily.

"It would seem so. Surely you can no longer expect us to sit idle, Elgar'nan." Fen'harel roars. "We must fight them while we have a chance."

"My decision is unchanged." The All-Father says flatly. "Our best chance to stop them is at Arlathan. This city they will not shatter."

"Your fear of the old gods blinds you, god of _vengeance_." The dread wolf snaps derisively. "I will not ignore this threat until it is on our doorstep."

"Then let us take consensus Fen'harel." Elgar'nan raises his voice. "I say we hold at Arlathan."

"I say we face them now." The dread wolf speaks.

"We should hold at Arlathan." Mythal says gently. "It is our only chance."

"We hold at Arlathan." Ghilan'nain says shakily.

"We face them now." Andruil insists.

"We should hold at Arlathan." June announces.

"I believe we should face them." Falon'din says eventually.

"I agree with my brother." Dirthamen relents.

"We hold at Arlathan." Sylaise speaks eventually, breaking the deadlock.

"We have made consensus. We shall hold at Arlathan. Are you finally satisfied Fen'harel?" Elgar'nan says, a touch triumphantly.

"You fools have dug your own graves." The dread wolf growls silently to himself. He then speaks loudly. "Very well, the decision of the council is what it is."

"Good, then we may disperse. I must examine the remains of the eluvian." The All-Father says as the gods begin to go their separate ways.

Fen'harel confronts Andruil, Dirthamen and Falon'din outside the chamber.

"If I were to fight, would you follow me into battle?" He asks.

"Regardless of our own opinions, we will not disregard a consensus Fen'harel." Andruil says with narrowed eyes. "That would be going too far. Why were you absent for so long?"

The dread wolf stalks towards the gate. "I went to see if there was anything left to guard."

Hours later, he is loping through the forests. He freezes far short of his destination. Blackened trees loom around him and blood seeps from the charred earth. He had never thought their influence had spread this far already. This is dangerously close to Arlathan which can only mean that the outer reaches are already too far gone. The worshippers of the dragon gods have forsaken long life for service to the dragon gods. The people of the world stand divided.

The trees come to life around the wolf god and he is wary. Dumat has breathed twisted life into their dark boughs, he has torn creatures from the fade and brought the very forest alive. Fen'harel's jaws open to impossible proportions and snap once.

Apparently satisfied, he turns back to Arlathan. He wonders if the news is worth relaying at all. Those fools will do nothing till death stands on their doorstep. The dragon lord has accomplished his goal, he has seeded a fear so deep that they cannot overcome it. Once more, he finds himself wondering how much better things could be if he was the lone god and the others were gone. But those are thoughts for another time, Dumat is what matters now. The dread wolf does something he has never done before. He hopes for a miracle.

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_Author's Note: Hope you liked it. Do leave your feedback. Next update should be soon._

_To my reviewers:_

_interesting2125: Thanks for the review! Indeed, much has changed in my reality. As for how that affects things, next chapter (definitely). Dumat's plan should actually come clear really soon now (3-4 chapters)._

_Nightwish11606: Thanks! Morrigan's reaction shall come next chapter. Leliana dying? Well, she is one of my favorite characters but she's also a demigodess with the power of the gods they're supposed to be stopping. You'll just have to wait and see :P _


	33. Portals to Nowhere

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Finally got round to writing a slightly longer chapter. The plot can take a decent jump here. Hope you enjoy it and do leave your thoughts._

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Chapter 33 – Portals to Nowhere

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_And so is the Golden City blackened_

_With each step you take in my Hall._

_Marvel at perfection, for it is fleeting._

_You have brought Sin to Heaven_

_And doom upon all the world._

_~The Canticle of Threnodies 8:13_

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Morrigan drew away involuntarily. That single statement had struck her like a mace across the head. And it had that venomous word enclosed in it. The very thing the dragon lord had taunted her about. And she still had not understood what his point had been. Had he mocked her for her ability to love or her inability to do so? Did she even know what it meant? To her the word had been synonymous with weakness and dependence. She did sometimes wonder why people set so much store by it. Her mother had always taught her that power and survival was what mattered, the capability to fend for yourself. _I must say, for the purpose we originally had in mind, Flemeth did an exceptional task in raising you. _

It irked her that that single statement still haunted her thoughts. Was she raised to deplore love and care? Did that diminish the truth of what Flemeth had said? And yet, she could not bring herself to deny the capacity she had to care. She _had _cared for Alisa; she had wanted to keep her safe. And she did care for Leliana, as awkward as it felt to think it. When she had removed the bard's armor, her oain had made Morrigan feel things she had never wanted to. That ridiculous desire to do anything to lessen the pain, even at cost to herself.

Undoubtedly, she had changed since this journey had begun. The only question that remained was whether it was for the better.

"Surely you are jesting." The witch said hopefully, although she knew what the answer would be.

"No, Morrigan. I love you." Leliana said softly. "You saved me from their influence; you're the only thing keeping me sane. You've done a lot for me in the recent past and I need to tell you how I feel."

The orlesian's words did provoke something in the witch and it scared her. And it occurred to her that that was exactly what the dragon lord had said. That she was scared of it. But was it even wrong to be scared of weakness? The wind blew silently through the trees as Morrigan contemplated a response. She wanted to lash out, but couldn't bring herself to. The thought that it would hurt the bard was far too overpowering in that regard.

"No." The witch said, shaking her head violently. "'Tis something I will not allow to happen. 'Tis a weakness I abhore."

"Love is not a weakness Morrigan, it is a strength." Leliana replied gently. "Do you care for me?"

"I-" And with some distaste, the witch found it impossible to say no. "Yes, I do care for you but I will not fall into such dependence."

"It isn't just dependence. It is a unity; we are stronger together than alone."

"It is a threat to independence. Survival and power are what matter." Morrigan said in a somewhat raised voice.

"It is Dumat's antithesis." The bard shot back. "And power isn't all that it is made out to be."

The witch paused. Dumat's antithesis? She realized Leliana wasn't speaking merely of love but of unity in general. She wondered if such things were truly in contrast with independent survival. The tevinter god of silence, desolation and death would of course hold no love for unity. And yet, there were some things she could not bring herself to accept. Now was not the time, if the time would ever come.

"No, I am… sorry." The witch murmured with some difficulty. She could see some hurt in the bard's liquid blue eyes. And it tore at her. And the tearing upset her. It was time to move on.

"I understand, but I still think you are wrong." Leliana said, cracking a faint smile. "Hopefully you will see it soon enough."

"Let us go find my mother." Morrigan muttered turning away. She glanced back. "Can you shapeshift?"

The bard shook her head. The quick change of topic had upset her a little but she would look past it for now. Greater things were at stake. And she could always hold a hope that confronting her mother would help the witch overcome her biases.

"No although I believe my old armor may have been inhibiting that." She said. "I could try to learn, if you would teach me."

"Very well." Morrigan sighed. It was worth it as it would let them cover distance far more easily. And it would distract from topics she had no desire to venture near.

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Alistair breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the shape of Redcliffe castle in the distance. It was only reassurance of what the messenger had told them but it relaxed him nonetheless. Their journey had taken far longer than expected due to the number of small towns and villages that had to be dealt with on the way. The demons were preying on his mind at all times; they seemed to have infested Ferelden completely.

What surprised him though was the incredibly low fatality rate. Most of the villagers seemed to be used as slaves. Alistair had seen what they were being forced to build. Statues of dragons, he had noticed the spilt blood at altars. He wished he knew what was going on with Alisa, Leliana and Morrigan but for the moment he could do nothing except try and keep his homeland safe. Against the demons if not the blight.

With a start he noticed that they had already reached the outskirts of the village. He heard a few audible sighs of relief from the soldiers following them. It was obvious that the village had been damaged but the sight of villagers moving about was calming. He made his way straight to Bann Teagan, who looked to be supervising reconstruction efforts.

"Alistair?" He said as he turned to face them. "It is good to see you. How bad is the situation elsewhere?"

The templar noticed that he was wasting no time. He sighed before responding.

"It's bad. Nearly every major city and town has been hit already. We managed to repulse them at Denerim at least. What happened here?"

Bann Teagan glanced away for a moment. "We were attacked by a large group of demons. They were led by an armored demon."

"A big, scary one with an awkward weapon?" Zevran asked with a raised eyebrow.

"If I may, it was like a sword at the end of a mage's staff." Said Ser Perth who was standing beside the Bann.

"He certainly gets around doesn't he?" The assassin muttered.

"We owe much to Ser Perth." Teagan said. "He and a group of knights held the village till…"

"Till what?" Alistair asked.

"Maker's breath, this sounds ridiculous but we were saved by monsters of some sort." The Bann murmured. "They were massive, stony grey skin, a number of legs and two arms…"

"Varterral." Wynne said softly. "I wonder where they fit into this."

The old woman's eyes turned to Ser Perth and she exclaimed softly. "Ser Perth, what happened to your neck?"

Alistair turned to see some of the skin on the knight's neck, scraped off with the entire area having turned red.

"I- it was the revenant." Ser Perth replied after a moment's hesitation. "He almost killed me."

"Would you like me to take a look at it?" Wynne offered.

"N-no no, no need for that." He said quickly. "It is fine, really. There are many other who are in greater need of your talents, lady."

Alistair turned around and instructed the soldiers and mages to help in whatever way they could. After he was done, he turned back to Bann Teagan.

"What now?" The Bann asked.

"We'll help in whatever way we can today." He replied. "Tomorrow, we'll have to move. I'm sure there are other nearby villages in danger."

"If you would allow me, I would like to join you." Ser Perth said suddenly.

"Redcliffe might need your help. I think you'll do better here." Alistair replied.

"I sincerely doubt they will attack here again." Bann Teagan said firmly. "Ser Perth is an extremely able warrior and you look like you could use as much help as possible."

"We'll consider it."

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The sergeant sighed in relief and sheathed his blade. He glanced around the village again, half expecting a demon to pop out of the shadows. He was in charge of one of the many groups Queen Anora had sent out to secure the nearby towns. And that had undoubtedly been the hardest fight of his life.

"I didn't sign to fight _demons_." One of his men grumbled behind him.

"Be glad yer still alive." The sergeant snapped. "Bunch o' our men ain't been that lucky."

"Demons are something else in reality." Shuddered another soldier. "The stories are all well and good but…"

"Sergeant!" Came a call from some distance away.

The man sighed again and wandered over with the two soldiers trailing behind him. The call had been from one of the mages who was accompanying them. He had never much trusted magic or mages. But he didn't have much choice in this case. From the way it had been explained, the only way to stop an endless horde of demons from emerging was with magic. Didn't mean he was happy about it.

"What is it?" He asked gruffly.

He glanced up at the ashen remains of the town's chantry. In its place, the villagers had been erecting a dragon statue under the demons' instructions. In front of it was a small stone altar that looked too red for comfort. The mage had been examining it for some time.

"I thought you might like to know, the demons were practicing some sort of blood magic sacrifice here." He announced as he got up.

"That don't make a ton o' sense, but I get yer point." He muttered. "Add forbidden, evil magic to the list o' things to report."

"Would you look at those trees?"One of the soldiers muttered.

"Never seen a shape that twisted." The other one commented.

The sergeant glanced at the two trees that flanked the altar. They had been entirely blackened, with their branches twisted in disturbing ways. They looked far too humanoid for comfort.

"Probably a side effect of the blood magic." The mage said in a somewhat uncertain voice.

"They look like they've got arms, if you know what I mean." One of the soldiers said in a soft voice.

"Shut it and get back to helping the villagers!" The sergeant barked before the group turned away.

A groaning creak caused them to stop in their tracks.

"That thing didn't move did it?" One of the soldiers said in a quivering tone as he turned back.

"Yer just nervous, now shut up and get back to work." The sergeant snapped.

Their departure was hindered by a splintering sound that was almost deafening. The sergeant spun around and instinctively drew his sword and shield. To his horror, the trees were in fact moving. They gradually uprooted two limbs and took a step forward.

"To me men!" The sergeant yelled. He knew how to stay calm in times of crisis. "Hack those damn things to bits!"

A first brave group of soldiers charged only to battered aside like toys. He could hear the disgusting sound of splintering bone. The mages reacted by hurling fireballs which, by all rights, should have burnt the things to the ground. Instead, the flames did nothing. They merely washed over the demonic tree creatures. The sweeping branches had soon made short work of half his men. That was when he eventually gave the order to retreat. From his peripheral vision, he could see the tree beasts slam their limbs into the ground.

Charred, ashen roots erupted beneath his feet and wrapped themselves around him. He could feel his bones being ground as his life ebbed away.

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"I told you that I sensed something troubling." June remarked as she looked at the sight Fen'harel had conjured.

The dread wolf could hear the two mortals gasp as they watched the tree creatures annihilate the human soldiers.

"These eldritch horrors have not walked the earth since the time Dumat was free." He growled. "It is troubling to know his power has grown so much."

"You should not be surprised. If we awakened the Varterral, it is obvious Dumat would awaken beasts such as these." Sylaise said.

"I am not surprised." The dread wolf barked. "But I do wonder if there will be anything left to save by the time the others are released."

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Two birds flew over the jagged terrain of the dragonbone wastes. They noticed the people down there, mostly dragon cultists. Morrigan reflected that they were probably the only people who would be pleased by the events transpiring in Ferelden, if at all they understood them. The witch noticed Leliana swooping down towards a partially ruined structure and followed her, cursing herself for becoming distracted.

Shapeshifting had come surprisingly easily to the bard and Morrigan supposed it was a byproduct of her new magical talents. After that they had paused only once for a meal. It was the first time they had eaten in complete silence. They hadn't exchanged a word and the witch had found it surprisingly uncomfortable. She had become used to Leliana confiding in her from time to time and her jibes. But she would be damned before she mentioned it.

The two birds landed gently on the ground before resuming human form. Flemeth emerged from the shadows with a scowl on her face.

"Yes Morrigan, do teach our art to even the most unworthy." She said in a condescending tone.

"I take it you are still jealous." The orlesian smirked.

"Be quiet, we do not have time." She shot back. "Follow me."

"Mother, I need to speak with you." The witch said in an unusually aggressive tone. "Stop."

"Later." Flemeth said tartly. "There are more important things to do at the moment."

Morrigan drew her staff from her back and began to reach for her magic when she felt Leliana grasp her hand. She turned to find the bard shaking her head.

"Not now." She whispered. "I hate to say it but your mother may be our only chance, depending on what she has planned. You can confront her later."

With great apprehension the witch slowly strapped her staff onto her back again. It was the world on one hand and her personal satisfaction on the other. As she walked into the tower, she wondered when she started caring about the world.

They descended lower and lower in complete silence till Leliana broke it.

"What exactly do you have planned Flemeth?" She asked. Morrigan noticed that the bard's hands were straying near her daggers at all times.

"It is a way to get a great deal of power. Enough to fight the old gods." The shapeshifter replied shortly.

"Then why do you need us here?" Leliana pressed. "I would assume you would want to keep your precious power to yourself."

Flemeth turned and her look shot daggers at the orlesian. "You are here only because it is necessary. Sadly I cannot embrace this power myself so I trust Morrigan to do so."

"What?" The witch said.

The bard followed Flemeth while Morrigan took a few moments to get a hold of herself and continue down the stairway.

"I suppose you would not give me this power." Leliana mused.

"Even if I could, I would not." The shapeshifter said flatly. "Thankfully, you cannot embrace it either."

Flemeth pushed open one last door to emerge into an underground chamber. In the very centre of the room stood an ancient mirror.

"What power is this?" The orlesian asked sharply. "And what is that mirror."

Morrigan still found it difficult to say something. Her mother was giving her power? Power to rival that of the gods? Once, she would have been pleased to no end. Just as she had been at the promise of a god child. And now, she could not bring herself to find an inch of trust for Flemeth. Partially motivated by her discoveries in the grimoire, partially motivated by Dumat's poisonous words.

"Not so all knowing are you?" Flemeth said, locking eyes with Leliana. "It is obvious the old gods would have kept this from you. This is an Eluvian, a mirror that belonged to the elven gods once. It was used for communication in the days of Arlathan. Before their imprisonment, the dragon gods found a far more innovative use for these objects."

The shapeshifter paused before continuing. "They may be used as portals but the only way to trigger them is with the old gods' magic. The original intention was for Morrigan's god child to activate the mirror. But since I was betrayed, that is no longer a possibility."

"So you want me to use their magic to activate the mirror, I suppose." Leliana sighed. "How much exertion will it take, I don't want to crack their prison too much. And where does this portal go?"

"The exertion will be negligible, trust me." Flemeth responded. "Merely touch the Eluvian with a spark of their magic."

The bard stepped forward and paused. She cracked a half-smile. "You still haven't told me where the portal goes. I trust it's something you don't want to reveal."

"Just do it." The shapeshifter snapped.

"Mother, where does the portal go?" Morrigan asked in a dangerous voice, drawing her staff again.

Flemeth looked mildly surprised at the witch's words. She then turned back to the mirror.

"Nowhere." She replied shortly.

The bard quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, I think I see what you mean. And here I thought it was impossible."

Her tone held some honest surprise. The witch felt a good deal frustrated at being the person left out of the conversation as she couldn't piece together what was going on.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" She asked the bard.

"Oh, I think so Morrigan." Leliana replied. "Besides, I'm quite sure I'm strong enough to avoid any tricks."

She reached out and touched the mirror with a singled red spark at her fingertip. Ripples spread across the Eluvian before the entire mirror turned to a glowing purple.

"Cross over." Flemeth said with barely repressed excitement.

The orlesian smiled and walked through confidently. Morrigan followed with some hesitation and Flemeth passed through last.

It took the witch's eyes a moment to adjust. From what she could make out, they stood in a massive hall that dwarfed anything she had imagined. She could not even see the ceiling; the pillars lining the hall seemed to stretch infinitely high. And everything was dark, it seemed almost charred. In front of them rose an enormous staircase that she could see over. The hall behind them extended for an unbelievable length before culminating in what seemed to be a door of some sort. With everything black, Morrigan had no idea how she could see clearly. She also could have sworn she saw glints of gold in the corner of her eyes.

"Where are we?" She asked although she was afraid she had already guessed. There was no sign of the portal they had come through.

"If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say this is the Black City in heaven." Leliana said slowly. "Am I right, Flemeth?"

"Yes." Came the short reply.

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_Author's Note: Just to mention it, yes the use of the Eluvian was inspired by witch hunt. I just thought it would be another piece of lore I could try to tie in instead of making up my own ritual to get into the black city. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and do leave your feedback. I'll update as soon as possible._

_To my reviewers:_

_Nightwish11606: Thanks for the review! I totally agree that the All-Father needs to get it. As do most of the creators. Maybe they'll redeem themselves this time around, we shall wait and see. Leliana could be a miracle but there are other possibilities :P_

_interesting2125: Thanks! Actually, that bit was, I think, partially inspired by the state of Rome before its final decline and fall. With rulers too decadent / afraid etc. to react to violent assault. So I guess you'd be entirely right! Also, I agree. The dread wolf is awesome._

_Trsytan438: Thanks a lot! Glad you're enjoying the stories. As I mentioned, yes the creators could use a reality check. Morrigan may be reluctant for the moment but only time will tell. Hope you continue to enjoy the story! _


	34. Messiah of the End

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Welcome to chapter 34 where we learn that the Black City isn't all it's cracked up to be! Jokes aside, this chapter should help paint a clearer picture. Or convolute it more. Depends on how you look at it I guess. A warning for violence in this chapter. Otherwise, let's jump in! Hope you enjoy it and do leave your thoughts._

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Chapter 34 – Messiah of the End

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_That is not dead which can eternal lie_

_And with strange aeons even death may die_

_~H. P. Lovecraft _

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"It is over," Dumat says calmly. "Truly over."

"They have entered the Black City then," Toth concludes.

"Pardon lord, but this seems to be based far too much on chance," Zazikel murmurs in his unusual voice. "It appears that only luck has got them into this position."

"My judgment is not wrong Zazikel. It never has been," The dragon lord replies. "It was obvious that it should come to this."

"This will only work once I suppose," Razikale says, a touch awkwardly.

"Yes," Comes the echoing response. "But it shall be enough. The only thing I never had shall be mine as well. A pity that I must demean myself so much to achieve what I require."

The voice pauses for a moment.

"They have forgotten why they fear us," Dumat speaks once more. "They have forgotten the silence that echoed through their world. Even Leliana dares believe that she understands, that she comprehends _my _intentions. It is time for the world to remember."

The next unholy syllables leak from the shadowy prison. They ripple across the fade and echo where the god of silence desires them to.

"Embrace me, my messiah."

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Morrigan took a hesitant step forward. The small footfall echoes through the emptiness like an avalanche. The cold, black walls and pillars did not respond. Leliana and Flemeth moved around, trying to get a grasp of their surroundings. The witch gently ran a finger down one of the pillars. Cold and moldy. It gave her some confidence that the place really was dead. At the very least, there was no omnipotent entity smiting them with terrible curses.

"It is oddly comforting to know that the Maker is most likely real," She heard the bard mutter. "And it is oddly disturbing to see that he has abandoned us."

"It seems the chantry is right on the rare occasion," Flemeth said grudgingly. "Now if we are done with sightseeing, I believe we should be heading up that stairway."

Morrigan followed the other two as they advanced patiently towards the unreasonably large staircase. The witch could sense the tension in the air and she herself was tense enough. The abandoned city was unusually unnerving. She half expected monsters to leap out of every corner. She chided herself for being too paranoid. Leliana's leather boot padded softly upon the first step as a terrible grinding filled the air. It was accompanied by splintering as Morrigan spun around, drawing her staff.

They spun their gaze around the otherwise silent city till the sound simply stopped.

"What was that?" The witch asked uneasily.

"I would say the gates to heaven aren't quite as barred anymore," The orlesian murmured as she pointed back down the hallway.

A faint pinprick of color could be seen in place of what Morrigan had assumed to be the gate to the Black City. And they had torn it open.

"It does not matter," Flemeth snapped as she turned to continue up the stairwell. "No one else can reach this place anyway, so the open gate does not present a problem."

Leliana seemed to ponder this for a moment before following the shapeshifter up the stairway with the witch eventually turning as well. Morrigan thought that the surrounding walls may once have held beautiful carvings; she could still make out fake outlines under the black mold that encrusted them. They climbed the stairs in silence, occasionally casting uneasy glances behind them. After what felt like forever, the grand stairway came to an end. And the witch did feel that sense of awe once more. The vast plane stretched out for miles. Whatever the floor was once made of, it was now black as well.

At the end stood a massive throne that was entirely empty. It was impressive only in its size for any features it may once have had were lost to the same taint that had claimed the rest of the city. What was truly of interest on that dead platform was the pedestal at the very centre. The structure itself had been claimed by the black decay. However, upon it floated a single, perfect, white sphere. It stood perfectly still in mid air, blissfully immune to gravity. Morrigan could see a glint in Flemeth's eyes. Leliana simply stared at the sphere as though she were hypnotized.

"That is it," The shapeshifter said triumphantly. "Take it Morrigan."

The witch stepped forward hesitantly, unsure of what was going to happen. She turned towards the bard but found her arm locked in a tight grip. She gasped in surprise for a moment before being thrown painfully onto the floor. What shocked her though was that the orlesian was the only person in position to have done it.

"Exceptional job Flemeth," Leliana hissed in a tone that was very much unlike her. "You are so very helpful to play into my hands like this."

The bard turned around to face Morrigan. At least the witch wished that it was the bard who turned to face her. Gone were the liquid blue eyes she enjoyed staring into. What replaced them was an obscene glowing white color. Flemeth looked as though someone had physically struck her. For once, she was lost for words. She didn't even react when a massive wave of magic sent her careening across the floor.

"No…" The witch whispered pointlessly.

"A pleasure to see you again," Said Leliana's voice. Morrigan felt the kick connect with her jaw while she struggled to her feet. She collapsed again, tasting blood.

"Leliana, have you gone insane?" She asked hopefully.

"Your dear friend is gone," Was the simple reply. "Do you not recognize the lord of dragons?"

The witch felt herself yanked to her feet by her hair before the bard's arm closed hard around her neck. The glowing eyes bored into her own, only malice lining the face that so often showed soft expressions. The hand tightened around her neck as the other hand connected hard across her right cheek.

"Calling a god by a mortal's name is deeply offensive," The dragon lord said darkly. He proceeded to toss the witch unceremoniously across the ground. Flemeth had managed to get to her feet still looking shaken by the turn of events.

"Do you even understand what you are looking at?" Dumat asked coldly in the bard's voice as the shapeshifer positioned herself to block access to the white sphere.

"It is power and this time you will not take it from me," Flemeth snapped as magic played around her fingertips. "Your magic is only as strong as your shell's."

"Flemeth, who told you where to find this power?" The dragon lord asked, feigning sweetness. "If memory serves it was _me_."

Understanding dawned on the shapeshifter's face as Leliana's expression changed to a bland one. "That is not power," Dumat said flatly. "At least, not in the sense you are seeking it. _That_ is the spark of creation. It is the magic to manipulate the essence of existence. The Maker's last legacy, the very power with which he forged this world. The very thing which keeps it together. The only thing I do not have."

Morrigan got to her feet staring blankly at the possessed body of Leliana. She stood beside her mother, staff in hand. She tried to convince herself not to hesitate if it came to attacking. The world or her… closest friend? The thought stung and she wondered when such decisions had become so hard. Her own survival depended on her ability to attack. And yet, it was harder than it should have been.

"Allow me to explain," The god of silence said amiably.

"Why?" Flemeth asked sharply.

One of Leliana's eyebrows arched in surprise. "So that I may gloat of course. Besides, in your final moments before death I want you to know how badly you failed."

He took a deep breath and smiled before speaking. "In the end, this entire matter is reduced to creation and destruction. In my true form I possess the capacity to crush reality into its most fundamental essence. And yet, I cannot do anything after. It should be clear that I stand nothing to gain by bringing about apocalypse. That sphere behind you will give me the ability to manipulate the fabric of existence. I shall destroy everything and remake it to my liking. It is my right as the most powerful god that exists."

Morrigan instinctively inched closer to the sphere. She and Flemeth appeared to be the only things standing in the path of apocalypse.

"Take it for yourself, Morrigan," The shapeshifter snapped.

"I encourage you to try," Dumat said lazily. "You do not have what it takes to control it, let alone absorb it. That honor is reserved for gods. I was imprisoned, you see. And due to the Maker's will, no god could ever enter the Black City. The only way here was through the Eluvian which I manipulated in times long past. Leliana would never trust enough to do this if we asked her of it. It was obvious to me however that you would act on this information once you learned of our betrayal."

"You cannot _possibly_ have predicted all of this," Flemeth shot back.

"Mortals are horribly predictable. And none of you seem to understand what a _god _is," The dragon lord replied. "You fools have always viewed us as powerful beings to worship but beings that can be challenged regardless. Let me make it clear for you. You _cannot _win. It is actually an impossibility. You come close to comprehending this Flemeth, closer than most. The only way to stop a god is if another god chooses to do so."

"You want us to believe that everything has been going as per your intention?" Morrigan mocked against her better judgment. "You wanted Leliana to betray you? You wanted everything convoluted to this extent?"

"It is not a matter of what I wanted, more a matter of what I expected," Dumat said softly. "When I confronted you in your dreams, every syllable, breath and movement was calculated. The same with Leliana. Tell me, what did that encounter instill in you? An intense desire to face your mother? My encounter with the bard left her with the overwhelming impression that Flemeth's plan was her only hope. And where would Flemeth lead you?"

"You could have possessed the girl whenever you wanted, couldn't you?" The shapeshifter sighed eventually.

"It is hardly that simple and to give everything away would leave me at a disadvantage," The dragon lord laughed. "But this was an opportune moment."

"Let go of her body," Morrigan seethed, surprised by how angered she was.

"I am certain she will be able to take back herself soon enough," Dumat said plainly. "I am still imprisoned, you know. My influence outside the prison is still weak. But I shall have control for a satisfactory amount of time. Step aside."

Morrigan raised her staff as it crackled with electricity. Flemeth didn't wait and let loose a fireball. It washed over Leliana's body with no effect.

"Zazikel's gift," The dragon lord said in a bored voice. "Magic will do nothing. I win, you lose."

One of the bard's arms waved lazily as a storm of thunder consumed the shapeshifter who struggled to erect a shield. A moment later Flemeth found herself knocked into a pillar in a flurry of blows.

"She never even realized the true extent of her powers," Dumat said in an amused tone as one of Leliana's fists struck Morrigan hard in the stomach. "The only talent whose boundary she pushed was healing. How pathetic."

The witch doubled up on the floor and found herself coughing blood. Her staff was kicked out of her hand as she felt her arm being yanked painfully out of its socket. Dumat proceeded to break it at the elbow. The bard's heel slammed into Morrigan's spinal cord, inciting a shriek of pain. The lightning she had conjured glanced harmlessly off Leliana's body. Out of the corner of her fogged vision, she could see that her mother had done what the witch thought she would.

The massive dragon that was Flemeth rose into the air, roaring in rage. The bright white eyes sparked with rage as the fingernails on one of the bard's hands grew to dangerous lengths, each a blade in itself. The orlesian simply rose into the air, flying without effort.

"I told you she had barely begun to tap her strength," The dragon lord laughed. "You mock me by taking the form of a dragon. Suffer for it."

The dragon's blaze of flame was avoided without effort as Leliana's hand ripped through the dragon's hide. The skin of the neck was the next casualty. The bard floated higher as voids appeared in the air. Black chains lashed out before chaining the dragon in mid air. Flemeth roared in pain. A terrifyingly large, shadowy sphere appeared in Leliana's hand before it slammed into the dragon's body as the chains retracted. The beast collapsed upon the ground, definitely unconscious and possibly dead.

The bard landed softly on the ground before walking towards the white sphere. In desperation, Morrigan managed to conjure a boulder through the pain. The impact of the rock pushed Leliana's body back several feet. The bruises and wounds from the impact were healed almost instantly as both sets of fingernails grew to blades.

"This will hurt a great deal," Dumat hissed.

The witch staggered to her feet and barely had time to look up before the knife like nails raked over stomach, spilling blood. The other raked down her back as she shrieked. A kick to her face broke her nose as her other arm was gashed horribly. A swift set of kicks broke both her legs and she felt herself picked up and thrown violently into a pillar. She saw the fingernails retract. A satisfied smile played across Leliana's lips as the glowing white eyes betrayed nothing.

"Why not just kill me?" Morrigan asked, spluttering blood and losing consciousness. It took her a moment to realize all her wounds were non lethal in the short term. Almost as though, Dumat had been careful not to kill her. The threat of course was that she would simply die of blood loss. It didn't even hurt anymore; her body was well beyond pain. There was just a strange numbness and the promise of sleep.

"Be glad I let you live. Do not question such things," The dragon lord spat as he turned towards the sphere again. "And now, everything is mine."

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_Author's Note: Apocalypse now? Well, we'll see next time :P Things touched on here should be made clear over the course of the next few chapters. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. Do leave your feedback. I'll update as soon as possible. Oh and as a matter of curiosity, would you like any of the flashback chapters to discuss the black city back when it was gold? Debating over whether to do it._

_To my reviewers:_

_Nightwish11606: Thanks! Yes, Ser Perth died in chapter 25 :) Refer there for additional details on his current predicament. I will not comment on Leli/Morri at this time ;) You'll have to wait and see. Debating whether any of my flashback chapters will show the black city back when it was gold. We shall see I suppose._

_interesting2125: Thanks! Yeah, I wanted to take their relationship somewhat slowly because it's important to the plot and because that's the way I'd see it happen, if it ever could. The Eluvian is more a means to an end. Well, I suppose the black city wasn't 'fun' for the characters, but I did enjoy writing it. More to come on that soon!_


	35. Burn, Weisshaupt, Burn!

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: I've been ridiculously busy lately, hence the delay. The sad part is that I expect it to continue. I ask you to bear with me for about a week and a half, then we should be back to normal! Regardless, this chapter is about... well the title kind of gave it away, huh? Hope you enjoy it and do leave your thoughts. Warnings for violence, and Blazt being Blazt._

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Chapter 35 – Burn, Weisshaupt, Burn!

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_The North is full of tangled things, and texts and aching eyes,_

_And dead is all the innocence of anger and surprise._

_~Excerpt from 'Lepanto', by G.K. Chesterton_

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Weisshaupt is a marvel. The unassailable fortress of the Grey Wardens has long been a revered sight in the Anderfels. The might walls have never invited a sufficiently foolish attacker. Almost a thousand wardens call this their home. The mighty fortress had fallen under the black gaze of Blazt almost immediately due to its symbolic and strategic value. Thedas would be torn apart far more easily if there was no unity among its nations.

He had already struck Orlais and Jader was now a massive, bloody shrine to the dragon gods. Nevarra and Antiva were in dire straits themselves, their militaries scrambling to meet the spontaneous demonic invasion. The Qunari would never have helped anyway. To his knowledge, the assaults on Rivain should just have begun. Razikale's influence was stretched thin however. Maintaining this many fade portals was all the dragons could manage from their imprisoned state.

The spirit dragon roared and cut through the cold air to land at the head of the army. Demons felt no cold, only bloodlust. Blazt strode forward, idly spinning his swordstaff. He could notice activity atop the stone walls; of course they were aware of the impending assault. To their credit the wardens acted with admirable calm in the face of a demonic army. Blazt glanced behind him at the motley force he had brought with him, not nearly enough.

"Bring the captives," He ordered as a number of humans and elves were forced forward. The revenant took his time separating them into two groups before forcing one set towards a tree.

The prisoners should have been grateful that they were unharmed, not even a scratch. When one of the desire demon's had become overexcited and clawed at one of the captives, Blazt had torn her apart with such cold efficiency that there were no further incidents. They had to have every drop of their blood. He drew his swordstaff and began making careful lacerations on the immobilized victims. Their screams died in their paralyzed throats.

He stepped back to admire his handiwork. Yes, torrents of blood gushed around the base of the tree, he had cut at the right places. His weapon glowed a sickening black for a few moments as he ploughed it into the ground at the base of the tree. Amidst much cruel laughter a group of demons was shoved into the growing pool of blood amidst the corpses of the prisoners.

"One for rage, one for hunger, one for sloth, one for desire and one for pride," Blazt murmured softly as his blade cut through the group of demons. "And the black trees shall stride once more."

Gradually, the surface of the tree was charred and blackened as its branches warped into horrific imitations of limbs. It uprooted itself with a deafening creak as it took its first steps in the world. It glanced down at Blazt and the unusual glow of his weapon. Apparently satisfied, it ceased its movements.

The revenant turned and repeated the ritual to raise another of the beasts. He spun his staff in satisfaction and turned to face Weisshaupt once more. He could see no motion in the great stronghold. He was not much worried though. They were prepared and so was he. He glanced at the black trees. These beasts had not walked the land since the dragon gods were last free. They put even the greatest pride demons to shame. The gates of the grey wardens' fortress would not hold for even a minute.

"These great beasts shall tear down the walls and the gate," He said as he turned back to the army. "Once they are broken, you are to charge in and kill indiscriminately. No restrictions. The attack ends when every last warden is a corpse and Weisshaupt is dust. Move."

Screams of bloodlust echoed across the region as the spirit dragon took flight with a mighty beat of its wings. The army followed the black trees which marched ponderously forward. Some distance away, ballistae bolts flew from the fortress. Blazt merely chuckled and broke them in mid air with his magic. A rain of burning arrows soon followed as the revenant gave the order to scatter. As he had hoped and expected, most of the attack was concentrated upon the black trees.

They did, however, make it to the wall without effort. There massive boughs rose even as arrows and magic rained down upon them. As their twisted limbs fell upon the wall, the mighty gate of Weisshaupt shattered like glass and the demons charged. A blaze of energy from the spirit dragon high above shredded one of the fortress' towers and the crumbling blocks claimed their own casualties.

Blazt strode into the courtyard only after letting the first wave of demons soak up some firepower. His eyes scanned the region quickly. There were a startlingly large number of opponents and each and every one of them a grey warden. It only served to heighten his insane bloodlust. A fireball erupted from his left palm as he dueled three wardens together. He fell back a slight a bit and spun his swordstaff in a wide arc. One warrior lost his head; another dropped his weapons while the third got away. Blazt leapt forward and grasped the disarmed warden around the neck and snapped it. He made a gesture with his free hand as the third warrior sailed through the air, only to be impaled on his weapon.

One of the black trees had fallen and the other was collapsing under the assaults of a large group of wardens.

"Blood mage on the wall!" A desire demon called to him as she gestured wildly.

He glanced at the robed figure who was working with several archers and ballistae to bring down the dragon. He gestured offhandedly as blood mage lost his balance and fell screaming to the ground. He died instantly on impact. The revenant was satisfied. They had cut a swath that led into the fortress. The wardens had been far too distracted by the trees and the dragon. He turned to find the dragon crashing through one of the walls. He walked up to the majestic beast calmly amidst the chaos. All according to plan of course.

His swordstaff turned bright yellow as he stabbed it into the dragon's body. He had always had a talent for absorbing spirits. Blazt sighed as the dragon's massive energy flowed into his being. He drew away a few seconds later, eyes blazing. He glanced across the courtyard littered with the corpses of wardens and demons alike. More reinforcements rushed from within Weisshaupt. The revenant raised his hand as a massive wave of force erupted.

It tore down the gate leading to the interior of the fortress as demons and mortals alike where blown away like leaves in the wind. And this was real power. Lightning erupted from his swordstaff, claiming at least a dozen wardens' lives instantly. He strode into the fortress as he burnt another group to ashes. He paused for a moment when he noticed a force of at least fifty men. But what impressed him was the man behind them who wore ceremonial grey warden armor. He clutched a jewel encrusted sword in one hand that was obviously magic and a shield in the other that bore the grey warden emblem. The first warden had joined the fray himself. Things must be desperate

Blazt scoffed and slammed his weapon into the ground, taking advantage of the closed space of the corridor. A burning shockwave erupted and he took great pleasure in their terrified expressions before most of them were slaughtered on the spot. He spun through the group, swordstaff seeking necks and hearts. A shield slammed into him knocking him back. His eyes sparked with rage as he stared at the first warden. They were the only two people remaining in the corridor.

"The wardens die here with Weisshaupt," Blazt laughed. "Each day we push Thedas closer to the abyss."

"Have you looked outside demon?" The first warden roared. "Your kind are dying. We will hold. But you will pay for the damage you have done today."

"So what?" The revenant mocked. "Your precious fortress is in shambles. More than half your order is dead. The grey wardens will never recover in time."

"In time for what?" The man demanded.

"For the coming of the gods of course. Now die."

He brought his swordstaff down in an elegant arc only to have the first warden catch the blow on his shield. Blazt barely avoided the sword as it hummed through the air. For all the claims of his political interests, the first warden was a competent warrior. The revenant launched a wave of cold that was effortlessly absorbed by the shield.

"Magic tricks won't help." The first warden spat as the sword nicked Blazt's armor.

Not a competent warrior then, but those weapons. Pleasure surged through the revenant. They would look lovely in his collection. He would be careful with the sword and the shield then. He decided to rely on more unorthodox techniques. He brought his swordstaff upward. The shield struck his right side as the sword pierced his left flank. The tip of his blade nicked the warden's helm and he tore it off. He didn't wait to take in the man's features. He grasped the bottle on his belt and slammed it into his opponent's faced.

The first warden uttered a horrific shriek as the acidic poison dribbled down his face. Of course he was completely blind now. Blazt took another bottle into his hand. He had become quite fond of poisons since his time in Thedas. They were an interesting sort of weapon and so very painful.

He strapped his swordstaff onto his back as he knocked the warden's sword and shield away. He grasped the back of his head and looked at his now disfigured face.

"This is highly concentrated soldier's bane you know," The revenant laughed as he uncorked the bottle. He had discovered that he enjoyed cruelty a fair bit. It was all these mortals deserved if they dared to defy him. "Admittedly this isn't how it's usually administered but I scarcely care."

He dumped the contents of the bottle down the flailing man's throat as he tossed him against the wall. The first warden wished he could have screamed but the poison in his throat had long stolen that capacity. Blazt raised a lance from one of the soldier's corpses. It turned red hot in his grasp as he slammed it through the first warden's chest till it dug into the wall.

He stepped back to examine his handiwork. It would set a more than satisfactory example.

"The poison and bleeding should kill you in good time," Blazt murmured. He could hear movement outside. He guessed the demons had been cleared away by now. "Maybe you'll have a chance to dribble vital fluids at your fellows. If I spare any of them."

_Intruders in our temple! Guard it with your life!_

The voice was like a million needles in his mind. He cursed the timing. Still, there was no waiting. He sensed the fade portal behind him. He would not ignore Razikale's call.

He sighed and let loose a humongous fireball that tore through much of the fortress before he strode through the portal. The grey wardens had held. But for all practical purposes, they had lost.

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_Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed it. Do leave your feedback. No promises about the next update, may even be a week :/_

_To my reviewers:_

_Nightwish11606: Thanks! And banged up is right. Since I'm evil, I wont resolve that plot line until next chapter ;)_

_interesting2125: Thanks! Glad Dumat came across that way, it's mostly what I was going for. I will, I believe, be putting the golden city in as well. Eventually. Maybe the Maker's a spindly armed midget... or not._

_Trystan438: Thanks! I was actually quite sad about having to beat up Morrigan so much but the plot demanded it. She will feel awful for sure. *sigh*. I'm so mean to my characters. Ah well, I'm sure things will get better for them eventually ;)_


	36. A Fragile Thing

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Got this up a bit sooner than anticipated. This chapter can also be titled 'Once Upon a Time in Thedas' or, more aptly, 'Exposition'. Anyway, let's get into complicating the plot one last time, shall we? (Yeah, right.) Do leave your thoughts._

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Chapter 36 – A Fragile Thing

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_What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly._

_~ Richard Bach_

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_Let go of my body!_

"Cease your resistance," Dumat snarled in her mind. "Let me have the spark of creation and I'll let you go."

Leliana's hand hovered above the perfect, white sphere. It refused to latch on to it and instead drew away a little before struggling on what it wanted to do. Morrigan was almost entirely unconscious, with her blood slowly trickling along the black floor. Flemeth was either unconscious or dead. And the dragon lord realized that the bard had saved her mental resistance for stopping him from getting the sphere. He was surprised that she had let the witch be hurt so badly to save her strength.

_Get away!_

"You're just a betrayer," Dumat whispered. "You're my messiah, nothing more and nothing less. You even confessed your love to dear Morrigan and then practically killed her. No better than Marjolaine, you know."

The hand's resistance fluttered for a moment and it descended closer to the orb.

"The world will end and it's all your fault," The dragon lord hissed.

The hand fell a little closer again.

_Let go!_

"You cannot resist me. I see everything in your mind. I can prey on every fear and insecurity. Stop your pointless struggle or I will hammer your psyche to dust."

_Leave!_

The massive wave of resistance took even Dumat by surprise as the bard's hand drew further away from the white orb and once again began threatening to reach forward.

"So you seduced Morrigan to satisfy your lust and then you betrayed and killed her," The dragon lord said. "At least you're behaving like the bard you once were."

He could reiterate this forever and each time he would inch closer to his goal and Leliana's resistance would shrink just a little more. Although, the fight she was putting up was certainly admirable. Out of the crack of Leliana's eyes, he could notice Morrigan stirring.

"Fight him, my love," She murmured weakly.

The god of silence regretted not removing her ability to speak. "That only works in the stories," He chuckled as he continued to hammer the bard's mind, forcing himself closer to his goal.

_NO!_

Dumat cursed his waning strength outside the prison. At this rate he would not have the Maker's spark. Of course, he had prepared for this eventuality. He hadn't expected to acquire it this time anyway. He would do things the other way then. Now that the gates of the Black City had been torn open, the spark of creation was readily exposed. Once he was free, he could acquire it with no effort. For the moment, it seemed he needed his messiah to see things a little more clearly.

"Very well, I'll let go. But also, let me _show _you."

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Leliana blinked as she glanced across the lovely scenery. Soft green grass stretched in all directions with vast trees offering shade at intermittent intervals. Clumps of forest lined her peripheral vision as a soft wind blew against her skin. And the rows of colorful flowers that grew in scattered regions, they were the most beautiful things she had ever seen. She let out an involuntary sigh as her muscles seemed to relax of their own volition.

"I take you admire this," Came a soft voice from behind her.

She turned around and narrowed her eyes at the figure of Archon Thalsian, or Dumat to be precise.

"What is this?" She demanded.

"Thedas," The dragon lord said wistfully. "Once upon a time."

A roar shook the air around her. But, to her immense surprise, it didn't seem hostile or upsetting. The deep bass tones were relaxing and inspiring at the same time. She turned to find the source and felt her heart leap in awe at the incredible beast behind them. It was the largest dragon she had ever seen. She felt completely comfortable in its presence. Its scales shimmered in every color she could imagine but not in a violent way like Zazikel's. They seemed to warp to whatever color she felt a momentary attraction for. The gentle green eyes made her heart melt while the claws were sharp and yet not worrying in the least. The bard took a moment to realize her mouth was hanging open and she took care to shut it.

"What is it?" She asked reverently, forgetting Dumat almost completely.

"That is the tevinter dragon god of majesty and glory," The dragon lord smiled. "His name is Dumat."

She stared dumbly at the figure of Archon Thalsian. A knowing smile lit the face of the tanned man in the black robe.

"Does my form from ages past surprise you?" He asked.

"You're lying," The orlesian murmured. It was impossible that Dumat and this glorious creature were the same.

The dragon lord shook his head sadly and snapped a finger. The glorious dragon's scales and features seemed to implode on themselves, creating the familiar void like dragon she was more used to. The green eyes eventually dissolved into the malicious, glowing white ones. With another click of his fingers, the dragon reverted to its previous form and flew into the sky with a single, graceful flap of its wings.

"Where are we?" Leliana asked softly as old memories of the Black City began to assail her. Morrigan lying in a pool of her blood, broken by the bard's hands. She tried to suppress the welling feelings, she had to try and concentrate on the issue at hand.

"This is Thedas," Was Dumat's only response. "Back when things were new. Freshly made by the Maker's hands."

He paused before continuing. "We were all different back then. But you see, a god is a being that has its own fundamental essence and yet projects a chosen image for the people of the world. I was once the god of majesty and then I chose to be the god of silence."

"I'm not speaking to either of them right now, am I?" Leliana said quietly.

"I see your intelligence has not abandoned you. No, you are speaking to Dumat."

"Why appear like this now when previously you only confronted me as the god of silence."

"Because I think you should understand my messiah," He said gently. "About what happened then and what must happen now. And you do love stories, don't you?"

He smirked at her silence before beginning. "The Maker forged this world, as you well know. I was the first of his children, and the greatest of them. Perhaps I was made far too strong and knowledgeable. The ones created later were lesser. Your Maker is a being detached from everything and yet is all of existence. When he abandoned this world, the spark that remained was the inanimate part of his being that held the fabric of reality together. As I said, it is the power of true creation and I desire it."

"The Maker has forged countless worlds before this and he shall undoubtedly forge countless worlds after this," Dumat smiled wryly. "He is almost like a child. When bored or offended by one toy, he simply moves on to a new one. But unlike many children, he never looks back. He certainly promised, as I'm sure he promised to every world before this, that Thedas was his favorite creation and that he would never abandon it. But things were different then, as the sights around you bear evidence to."

"You're no better than that," Leliana murmured. "You intend to destroy the world and remake it to your pleasing."

"Dear, there is one thing that omniscience, omnipotence and immortality do not grant," The dragon lord laughed. "And that would be maturity. You mortals learn to live without being perfectly satisfied in all spheres of your life. That is one of the things in which you find growth. This is not true for gods. As we age, our knowledge grows and our perceptions change but we need not learn to 'live with' things. We have the ability to take whatever we want."

His eyes glinted for a moment. "And why shouldn't we? That is even truer in my case. While the other gods are powerful, they cannot destroy the world. Once I possess the Maker's spark, why shouldn't I satisfy myself utterly? If I have the power to make the world to my desires, I _will _use it."

"Why did you change from the god of glory and majesty?" The bard asked softly.

"The god of majesty was simply a chosen façade like the god of silence," He replied. "But I understand your question. Those many years ago, I believed it was due to jealousy. The creators were made as gods by the hand of the Maker. That, of course, upset me as they were not under my command and I was the greatest of his children. So I took the form of destruction incarnate to crush them. But I was young then, as was the world. Now I see that jealousy was merely my justification."

"What was the real reason?" Leliana asked, wondering if she wanted an answer.

"I was bored," He shrugged.

The orlesian stared dumbfounded. "You-" She began but her voice simply trailed away.

"What's the matter?" Dumat mocked. "Can't find a word hideously obscene enough to describe my motives? For a mortal, you are right. In your eyes, boredom is a sick motivation to destroy reality. But as I have said, gods expect satisfaction in all spheres. That is why we so desire prayer. It makes us feel comfortable."

The smile returned to his face. This time it was malicious. The ground beneath their feet began to char and blacken. "The world was so pure and beauteous back then," He hissed. "I wondered what would happen if I took that innocence and _raped_ it and beat it to death. The result is before you."

The blackness covered the land as the flowers died. The air became still and stifling and smelled of fetid corpses. The trees twisted before uprooting themselves.

"I gave birth to the black trees to be the antithesis of the Varterral," He laughed. "I split the people of the world."

The scene flashed for an instant and Leliana could see several elves kneeling before the god of silence. A group of five slit their throats before him and their blood pooled around his claws. She watched with horror as the rest of them changed. Their ears drew back; they became taller and somewhat better built.

"That's right," The dragon lord breathed from behind her. "I _created _your miserable race. Some of the people surrendered their immortality in my service and I gave to them greater power than the others. They despised the elves from the very beginning. For while they lived in filth and darkness, the elves lived in the grand forests of Arlathan. And they couldn't hate me; that would be wrong."

The scene shifted to bloodshed and mad war. "I engulfed the entire world in the flames of death," Dumat whispered. "The shemlen fought the elves and they all died. I consumed more and more of the creators' holy forests with each day. I blackened the ground and cast over the skies. And the elven gods were too scared to fight me for I had defeated them before. I _brought _war and racial hatred to Thedas."

"Just as I told you," He said gently. "I raped the world's innocence and purity. It felt fantastic. But this world is too old now; with your help I shall forge a new one. You've already done all that was needed except to release us completely. I'm sure you will comply with even that in good time."

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The first thing Leliana felt was heat, especially in the wind. The second was light waves of sand buffeting against her armor and skin. She glanced around at the dirt that extended in all directions. She was surrounded by the decaying edifices of ancient buildings. Not a hint of green or any sign of water in the endless wasteland. Dead was the first and only word that stuck in her mind. Her heart leapt when she noticed Morrigan getting shakily to her feet and dusting herself off.

"I'm so sorry," The bard blurted. "I didn't mean to… I didn't know-"

The witch apparently didn't feel like listening and pounced on Leliana, tightly locking their lips together. The orlesian felt herself pressed against one of the cracking stone walls as she moaned into the kiss. Morrigan broke away eventually and began to bite and lick at the bard's neck as her hands traced the orlesian's curves. Leliana was surprised by the ferocious passion but too taken up by it.

"I love you, I love you!" She moaned in the heat of the moment, whimpering as the witch drew away.

The next statement shattered everything. "It is good to see my messiah has finally seen the light," Came the mocking tone.

Those eyes weren't the beautiful golden she remembered, of course not. It was the goddamn glowing white of the dragon lord. The rest of the witch's form shimmered and fell away as the figure of Archon Thalsian replaced it. The eyes refused to change.

"Stop it!" Leliana shrieked, collapsing on her knees and sobbing unintentionally. "Stop torturing me, damn it!"

Dumat frowned for a moment. "You shouldn't have challenged me. I warned you time and time again and yet you insisted on being foolish. Although I admire your resilience, it took a good amount of time to break you."

"B-break?" The bard whimpered, unable to help herself.

"You clearly aren't in a good state of mind," The dragon lord sighed. "You can usually recognize my aura and yet this time you fell for the simplest of illusions."

He chuckled before continuing. "First your mother died, then the person who cared for you. You fell in love with your mentor who betrayed you and broke your heart. The orlesian authorities broke your body. You found Alisa and her companions and remembered what hope and happiness meant. Then you were poisoned by the woman you wanted and shunned by your friend. Then tricked into the fade by Roysten, forced into accepting a deal with us."

Dumat stared unkindly at Leliana's quivering form. "Then you tortured and killed your mentor which brought little closure, I'm sure. Then you were forced into painfully hurting your old companions. When Morrigan pulled you from the edge of the precipice you once more found your precious hope and happiness. And then, I possessed you, betrayed the witch and practically killed her. Are you surprised there's nothing left in you?"

"Wh-what is this p-place?" The bard couldn't help her stammering.

"Your psyche," The dragon lord said with a touch of triumph. "Do you see how barren it is? Dead, broken, gone. Let me break it to you, you've finally snapped. A touch of magic on my part has trapped you in the image of your psyche."

Dumat continued with little regard to the few tears that had begun trickle down the orlesian's cheek. "You want to get out, I suppose. It's rather simple. Convince yourself that it isn't your fault."

"I-" Leliana began before her head sank.

"Thought not," The dragon lord laughed. "Or you could use the brute force of magic to shatter my spell. Although, the exertion will cause our prison to break. Not much choice."

The bard mutely shook her head.

Dumat shrugged. "You'll have to eventually. This place is nothing but pain and you can't die here. You'll be pushed to the point of shattering the illusion eventually. One other thing you should know, Morrigan was more important than you currently believe."

A questioning look flashed unwillingly across the orlesian's face for an instant.

"If we hadn't taken the course we did, Morrigan would have become one of the principle forces that would forge what came after the blight," The dragon lord chuckled. "But more importantly, she was a valid conduit. I wonder… What if we had done things differently? Regardless, it is time for me to take my leave. I look forward to my freedom when your own mind drives you into releasing us. By the way, you lose."

The figure vanished in an instant and Leliana shakily rose to her feet. She stumbled a few steps, a million thoughts running through her head. And then she simply collapsed on to the ground, crying. Letting her tears run into the coarse, cold, sand.

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_Author's Note: Well, hope you liked it. Do leave your thoughts. I'll update as soon as I can._

_To my reviewers:_

_interesting2125: Thanks for the review! I think I've decided on how I'll do the Maker when we get to it. Hope it works. And now you've gone and stuck the cellphone in my head too. *sigh*. Blazt's motivations kind of lent him to that sort of attitude. Game villains tend to have more 'normal' motivations if you know what I mean. Normal compared to 'blow up world, make new one' anyway :P_

_Nightwish11606: Thanks! Nyquil? Man, all my reviewers are sticking me with weird images. Now I can't help but picture Blazt with a cellphone and Nyquil. That would make for a weird story. *shudders*. But yeah, poor wardens. I felt bad setting a bunch of bloodthirsty demons on them but the plot called for it. _

_Trystan438: Thanks! A little bloodlust and violence is good for you, right? A swordstaff would generally be an awesome weapon. Admittedly, it was partially inspired from the dragon age 2 trailer, but I took my liberties from there. Hope you like the rest of the story! _


	37. Worlds That Never Were

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Yes, I know this is super mega ultra late. I am deeply sorry but I had tests and stuff. Should be better from here on out. Anyway, this chapter is a bit of an oddity. I just felt that our friendly neighborhood dragon gods deserved a chapter to themselves eventually. And it's a good way for me to transition into the final leg of this tale. I hope you enjoy it and do leave your feedback._

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Chapter 37 – Worlds That Never Were

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_A single idea, if it is right, saves us the labor of an infinity of experiences._

_~Jacques Maritain_

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"The spark is exposed," Dumat says plainly. "Our release is close."

"She will have to break out of her mental prison with magic," Razikale's clear voice sounds pleased.

"Is there no other way?" Toth growls softly.

"She would need a sufficiently strong anchor," Lucasan replies carefully. "She does not have one."

"I would be inclined to disagree," Urthemiel sings.

"You refer to the witch, Morrigan, then," Zazikel sighs.

"Insufficient," Andoral snaps coldly. "It isn't _real_, just like every other mortal bond."

"What if it were?" Urthemiel persists.

"Then," Razikale pauses for a moment. "The spell would break. You must admit though, it is highly unlikely."

"I say it is what you fear," Dumat's echoing voice causes a stir of discomfort. "I believe the critical encounter would have remained unchanged at its core even if we reversed things."

"Inconceivable," Lucasan says automatically. "Do you truly think it could work the same way? She is not the same."

"She doesn't need to be the same," The god of silence says patiently. "Only the bond between them need remain the same. I further insist that the encounter would be independent of what led up to it."

"The incident you speak of may not even occur in a million cases," Zazikel says quietly. "I do not see how it is relevant."

"The relevancy is not in question," Razikale responds. "Lord Dumat only mentions it in particular because it is… isolated, so to say."

"You mean because of no outside interference," Toth muses. "I suppose it holds for an accurate test, when it occurs."

"It is also an absolute in itself," Dumat says. "There are, in any realistic case, only two extreme outcomes."

"If it would proceed similarly after reversal, we have no choice but to conclude the obvious," Urthemiel's celeste tones speak out.

"How is the reverse even possible?" Lucasan demands. "Morrigan is a mage."

"And her mother's soul is symbiotically bonded to a demon's," Razikale shoots back.

"And how does that matter?" Andoral inquires.

"Her soul is both normal and abnormal," Dumat replies softly. "Due to Flemeth's nature, Morrigan would _have _to be a mage. Similar to how we _forced _magic into Leliana, and she can still interact with the magic that seals us away."

"Essentially, you are saying that the witch could interact with the gate," Toth barks. "Why did we not use her instead?"

"Prevailing conditions dictated otherwise," Razikale snaps. "There needs to be a convenient way of getting her here. Roysten was the only way and Leliana worked better with his choices in mind."

"Still, Morrigan is power hungry," Urthemiel sings softly. "She would have torn Thedas apart if we gave her that power."

"You are wrong," Dumat replies flatly. "She is power hungry because Flemeth raised her to be. Remember that she was to be our tool before we found a better way. She desires power, but I assure you she has no idea what to do with it."

"So she thinks of the goal and not beyond," Razikale laughs. "Understandable, for a mortal. In any case, I doubt she would have trusted us. She was raised to not be that either."

"And yet she seems to trust Leliana," Toth hisses.

"This is strictly undesirable," Andoral sighs.

"I still insist that it is not real," Lucasan replies.

"Then let us _see_," The lord of silence says coldly. "The way we ordinarily do. I have read their minds inside out. We construct a situation and see what occurs. If it is as I believe, then they are compatible either way."

"Very well," Urthemiel says softly. "Let us merge minds then."

The dragon gods re-imagine the world to answer their musings. A different decision of their own, in essence. What if Roysten had not turned to the chantry at all? Instead, he stole the ancient scrolls with the simple intention of releasing his gods. Dumat knew what he would have done then. Use Morrigan instead of Leliana. Equally well positioned, of course, as they were to travel with the same group. And as far as he is concerned, a valid conduit is a valid conduit.

He does not expect to be surprised; this is more to prove something to his brethren. He glances detachedly at the incidents that unfold before them. He notes that no set up was needed to inspire the witch to leave the warden's group. The promises and whispers of the gods were, of course, enough. For when you think about it, it was the reason she joined Alisa in the first place.

Teyrn Loghain and Arl Howe need not have died, for cleansing Ferelden was not on Roysten's agenda this time. Marjolaine, he couldn't find a reason to care. She was a tool to get to Leliana, and the bard was not the messiah this time. In return, the portals to the fade are torn open far sooner and the demons flood into Ferelden.

"You see, she destroys," Lucasan breathes. "Though I wonder why she has not confronted the warden and her group."

The dragon lord laughs. They ask questions which have obvious answers. Change one thing and you change everything, while simultaneously affecting nothing. Fate works in strange ways, Dumat is confident that both paths will achieve a similar final result.

"Because she has no need to," The god of silence responds. "She has no scores that need to be settled. She left of her own volition, unlike Leliana. One could even venture to say that Leliana made the more sadistic decisions."

The others stay silent but their discomfort is faintly audible. They let it progress to the point where the desired confrontation is before them.

"The circumstances that led up to this are incredibly specific," Zazikel speaks. "It would only happen in the rarest of cases."

"The point is that it could happen," Razikale says exasperatedly. "The interaction itself is all that concerns us. If Morrigan kills her, then we have nothing to be concerned about. If the outcome is similar to how it is in the reverse case, then we must think further."

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"Morrigan, stop!" Leliana's voice carried through the forest.

The witch turned around and glared. Her robes were the same as before but Leliana gasped at her beauty. While she had always been beautiful, now she was unearthly. She had let her raven locks loose so they fell down to the middle of her back.

"You should not have come," She snapped.

The bard drew her daggers just to be safe. Morrigan made no move for the staff on her back. That had changed too, it was now jet black metal with an unusual gem encrusted at the tip.

"Have you gone crazy?" Leliana demanded. "Why are you trying to release the old gods?"

"'Tis not like I have much choice at this stage," The witch shrugged. "Besides, the power is worth it."

"Morrigan, listen-" The bard began only to be cut off.

"Leave," Morrigan said plainly. "Unless you want me to kill you."

"Do it," Leliana snapped with narrowed eyes.

The witch's glare only intensified. "Do not test my patience. We were… friends once but none of that matters now."

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"Friends?" Andoral demands.

"Different realities, different conditions," Dumat replies airily.

"Obviously the result of this encounter will be different because of that," Lucasan responds.

"If you like we can try it with different conditions after this," The dragon lord says slowly. "I assure you, the results will be unchanged."

"This does not bode well," Razikale muses.

"We must react now," Urthemiel hums.

"Wait and watch," The god of silence says with finality. "I wish to be sure before making my decision."

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"Then do it," The bard said.

"Fine," The witch barked. She tossed her staff aside. "'Tis your death wish."

Leliana quirked an eyebrow at the staff on the ground. She raised her daggers.

"I wished to make it fair, so to say," Morrigan hissed.

The bard yelped as a pair of chains emerged from nowhere and snatched her weapons away. She felt herself lifted into the air and slammed hard into a tree. She whimpered unwillingly.

"What is the matter?" The witch sneered. "Does it hurt?"

Leliana struggled pointlessly against the binding magic as Morrigan just stood in front of her, smirking. The bard felt herself drawn away from the tree only to be slammed into it again. She grimaced as she felt blood drip down the back of her neck.

"Coward," Leliana mumbled. "Hide behind their magic if you want."

The witch quirked an eyebrow before calmly slapping the orlesian across the face and letting the magic slam her into the tree again.

"You really are not in a position to be mocking me," Morrigan whispered. "Now please leave, I have no interest in killing you."

"You won't," The bard mumbled as she struggled further. "Stop siding with them!"

"Why?" The witch asked before raking her nails down the orlesian's right cheek, drawing blood. Leliana hissed at the pain.

"You always were a bitch," The bard said softly.

"What did you call me?" Morrigan asked slowly.

"Bitch," Leliana snapped. "It's not as though I haven't called you that before."

The witch proceeded to break her nose with a hard punch. The bard cried out in pain. She had expected a more favorable response, they had been friends, damn it.

"Those times are gone," Morrigan said plainly. "'Tis not that hard to understand. But you always were a fool."

"At least we're back to normal," The bard muttered. "Do you mind getting rid of this magic?"

"I asked you a question," The witch said softly before slamming her into the tree again. "Why?"

It had taken a while, but it finally hit Leliana that she might actually die. She swallowed slowly, trying to find her voice again. She had always assumed that Morrigan wouldn't _actually _kill her. The new revelation came with a good bit of unhappiness apart from sheer terror. Had their friendship been worth that little? And she, ever the foolish optimist, had hoped for even more.

"Do you _want_ to destroy the world?" The bard asked weakly.

"It will happen either way," The witch shrugged. "'Tis better that I keep favor with the winning side."

"We can stop them," Leliana shouted. "Come back with me."

"Back where?"

"To the others," The bard replied. "They're recovering from the injuries of the last battle."

"So you left of your own volition," Morrigan murmured, stepping a little closer.

"I am not leaving you like this," Leliana snapped.

"Then I will have to leave you dead."

"Wouldn't you rather be on our side?"

The witch grasped a handful of the bard's hair and smiled at her faint whimpering. She drew extremely close.

"What's the point?" Morrigan asked softly.

Leliana shuddered involuntarily at the witch's breath caressing her face. She wished she had a dagger to stab with. She groaned as Morrigan calmly tugged harder at her hair before the magic slammed her into the tree again.

"S-stop that please," The bard whispered.

"Why are you stuttering?" The witch smirked. "And answer my question."

"Is saving the world not a good enough reason?" Leliana managed.

"You are planning to free the elven gods?" Morrigan asked.

"Y-yes," The bard stuttered, again acutely conscious of how close the witch's face was.

Leliana yelped in surprise when Morrigan drew closer, their lips almost touching.

"You have wanted this, I take it," The witch said softly. Her lips barely brushed against the bard's when she spoke.

Leliana felt like screaming. "H-how did you know?"

"I did not need any magic for _this_," Morrigan laughed. "The way you stare, 'tis pathetic really."

"I'm still pinned to a tree by magic, you know," The bard murmured.

"All the better."

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"This proves nothing," Lucasan snaps. "They were close before and this is merely a reflection of that."

"I told you we can try again with different conditions if you so desire," Dumat responds coldly. "You may not get the exact result, but it will be close enough."

"This is not in our best interest," Razikale mutters. "You were right, lord."

"I always am," The dragon lord says patiently.

"But this implies that Leliana can break free," Zazikel says. "Since Morrigan is a valid anchor."

"True enough," Andoral speaks. "What now?"

"Tell Blazt to intensify the attacks," The god of silence says in a commanding tone. "No more shrines, no more conversions. Tell him to destroy everything. With the spark exposed, nothing really matters."

"This feels like a knee-jerk reaction," Urthemiel sings softly.

"It is," Dumat responds with finality. "We have no choice, we have severely miscalculated."

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_Author's Note: Yes, I am a fool and perhaps a tad mean to give you zero background on this 'what if' encounter. But I couldn't write the whole story again and this chapter is more about the dragon gods than Leliana and Morrigan anyway. Been a while since I released an elven god though. Next chapter, promise. And it should be a fun one hopefully. Hope you enjoyed it. Do leave your thoughts. The next update will likely come a fair bit faster._

_To my reviewers:_

_Nightwish11606: Thanks! Yeah, Dumat's a bit of a bastard that way. And of course Morrigan loves her, was there ever any doubt :P Hopefully she'll break out before Morrigan's condition gets too bad. We shall know soon._

_interesting2125: Thanks! Yeah, it's a bit of 'I r create super cool omnipotent god thing! ... Maybe not such a great idea.' Yeah, she probably will deny it but we know the truth. I suppose we'll wait and see when the two of them can live happily ever after, if they can live happily ever after ;)_


	38. Evil

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Yes, I'm still alive and exams are evil things. Anyway, a very merry christmas to all my readers and happy holidays. If I don't get another chapter in before new years, then happy new year as well! I resolve to update more frequently soon :P Now, for a warning, hop you... like(?) this chapter. You'll probably hate it for a number of reasons, what can I say._

**_Warning: This chapter is really dark gory and generally unpleasant. It made me change the rating of this story to M. If you're queasy about such things, don't read it, I'll include a short summary at the beginning of the next chapter. I am not responsible for any side effects this may have._**

_Now that that's done, yeah the story's M now. Oh well, gives me a bit more liberty in the long run. I'm surprised I wrote this actually, oh the sacrifices I make for the plot._

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Chapter 38 – Evil

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_The soul that has conceived one wickedness can nurse no good thereafter._

_~Sophocles_

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Brother Tiberius leaned against the stone facade of the ancient temple of the dragons. Sister Elaine sat on a stone nearby, both completely silent. They had made it there with their lives barely intact. Robert and Bridget never made it. Tiberius' mind was still haunted by the memories of the demons tearing them apart as they tried to buy time for Father Roysten.

Father Roysten, the man he had respected more than anyone in the world. The man who was essentially to be responsible for the end of the world. Tiberius took some small comfort in that Roysten was at least trying to fix things. He and Elaine would stand guard while Father Roysten tore the Lyrium circle at the heart of the temple. The cold wind caressed his face as the trees rustled around them.

The terrifying visages of dragons loomed around them, casting haunting shadows even in the bright sun. Tiberius traced the outline of one of the statues' mouths, momentarily overtaken by severe paranoia that the statue was going to bite his finger off. There was a sharp crack round the corner of the cliff face. Tiberius and Elaine snapped up to attention, drawing their small daggers.

"I'll go look, protect Father Roysten," Elaine said sharply before jogging around the corner, giving no time for argument.

Tiberius swallowed the bile rising in his throat and resisted the urge to whimper. He had seen too much in the past few days, far too much. Demons chewing on his fellows, blood spilling from their mouths as they howled in cruel laughter. And then something came around the corner and Tiberius choked.

It was the most horrifying thing he had ever seen. It had three horrendous arms and wrinkled, torn up skin. Blood gushed from its deformed mouth as a slobbering tongue hung out, spilling acidic saliva that charred the grass below. One of its eyes was a bloody hole and the other had an unusual pupil that flitted unnervingly.

Tiberius let out a small sob and hurled himself at the beast, lashing his knife in every direction. His expected death didn't come; he gained some confidence as he actually felt himself winning. The demon's tongue splattered on the ground as he tore it apart, taking all his anger and frustration out. And then his vision cleared.

He wasn't slaughtering a demon. He screamed as he saw Sister Elaine's mutilated body fall into his arms. Mutilated by his own hands. Maker's breath, he had gouged out her eyes and torn out her tongue. He collapsed in hysterical tears as an armoured boot slammed into the ground in front him. Whimpering, he looked up into the revenant's glowing red eyes. Before he blanked out, he could swear the demon was smiling at him, even though it had no face.

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Brother Tiberius woke up to see what he had done to Sister Elaine. He burst into tears and howled in self loathing and rage. He didn't deserve to live, what in the Maker's name had he done. He stumbled towards a particularly jagged rock. He stared at it for an instant and then slammed his forehead into it. He almost blacked out then and there as blood flowed down his face. He cried even harder in his pain but it was sweet release. He slammed his head down harder and felt the jagged rock pierce his brain and then he felt no more.

Brother Tiberius woke up to see what he had done to Sister Elaine. He burst into tears and howled in self loathing and rage. He didn't deserve to live, what in the Maker's name had he done. He grasped his knife and shoved it slowly down his throat, choking on blood and steel as he tore vital organs until he knew no more.

Brother Tiberius woke up to see what he had done to Sister Elaine. He burst into tears and howled in self loathing and rage. He didn't deserve to live, what in the Maker's name had he done. He picked up his knife and slit his wrists, crying as he slowly bled to death.

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Blazt laughed as he walked into the temple, leaving the writhing Tiberius behind him. The poor mortal would dream his own suicide and grief again and again and again until his real body simply gave up from hunger and thirst. He had noticed easy ways to take his abuse of mortals to untold levels. He had felt ecstasy when he looked at Sister Elaine's face as her closest companion had stabbed her to death.

The old man in the chamber in front of him turned around slowly, his eyes widening in shock. Father Roysten raised his staff as Blazt raised his swordstaff. Their explosions of magic met in the centre of the room and imploded in a spectacular burst of light. And then Roysten found himself lacking his weapon while the revenant still held his.

Blazt closed the distance in an instant and laughed sadistically as he scraped his armoured glove down one side of Roysten's face. The old man barked in pain and fell back, the right side of his face skinned off. He could barely see with one eye as he crawled towards the Lyrium circle. Another shriek of pain emerged from his mouth as the revenant tore his legs off with his bare hands.

He knew he blacked out for a few seconds as a wave if pain overwhelmed him. His eyes opened and he barely made out the shape of the demon in front of him. He found his vocal chords barely working.

"Was I just... a tool all along," He murmured blankly. "Doomed to fail after being used and abused..."

"What made you think differently?" Blazt chuckled as he smashed his foot onto Roysten's head.

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Blazt stared down from the cliff at the Dalish encampment in the clearing. He sighed, order after order after order. At least this one promised to be a good amount of fun. It would seem that the other warden had been busy while Blazt had been destroying Weisshaupt. It was reasonably clever to gather the army promised against the blight and use it against the demons. He had received information that he had visited this Dalish clan recently. Apparently, Alistair's presence was being masked from Razikale by an unknown source, obviously the creators.

And so, as their errand boy, he had to find out what these mortals were planning. He had his suspicions and a spy in their midst. But at this time, he had no convenient way of contacting Ser Perth's reanimated corpse. Even if he did, he would rather torture some elves first, far more enjoyable. A desire demon slinked up to him from behind.

"Report," He said coldly.

"The elves are departing in two groups from what we gather," She whispered. "Their lead sentry Mithra has already left with one group of hunters. Their keeper Lanaya is preparing to leave as well."

"Prepare to attack," He said flatly. "That keeper knows where our prey has gone and she will tell me."

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The group of hunters gathering at the outskirts of the encampment never stood a chance. The enormous fireball, almost a meteorite struck in their midst with a deafening explosion. Most of them died instantly, the demons cleaned up the rest with terrifying efficiency.

Lanaya fought with what magic she could muster as she fell back towards the camp. And then she was tugged towards the demons with magic as Blazt snapped her staff and threw her violently to the ground.

"Where has Alistair taken his army?" He asked her calmly.

She had spoken with Alistair before his departure, she knew as much she could hope to. The fate of all Thedas depended on her not giving a thing away. And she was confident she could avoid doing that.

"I'm not telling you, you monster," She spat, resisting the urge to cry when she saw her fellow elves lying dead across the forest floor.

"Actually, I much prefer it this way," The revenant laughed before dragging her into the camp.

Lanaya's heart skipped a beat when she saw the old and young of the camp being held captive by demons. She almost shrieked as she saw a desire demon run her tongue up the side of an elder's face before scraping her claws down his body. She could do nothing as the revenant slammed her onto a table, ensnaring her by magic. She could tell he had reinforced the table as well; otherwise it would surely have broken. She knew what was coming, and it terrified her.

Blazt grabbed a mace from one of the demons, sheathing his swordstaff. He looked down at Lanaya before slamming the mace onto the palm of her hand, shattering every bone. She groaned in pain, resisting the urge to scream and beg.

"Tell me where he went," Blazt ordered softly to which the keeper mutely shook her head.

The revenant shrugged and slammed his mace into her other palm, this time inciting a small scream. He didn't even ask again as he grabbed her forearm and smashed the elbow joint to dust with his mace. This time, Lanaya shrieked as her vision blotched in pain.

"Tell me," He growled, the keeper didn't move.

He laughed and walked away, grabbing a young red haired elven girl. She yelped as he wrenched her arm out of its socket before grasping her head.

"Leave Gheyna alone!" Cammen screamed across the camp as two sloth demons restrained him.

"In a minute," Blazt laughed before repeatedly slamming the girl's face into a rock until it was completely unrecognizable. He threw the bloody corpse at Cammen who looked as though he would die purely from shock.

Tears flowed freely from Lanaya's eyes; her magic was completely ineffective against the magical restraints.

"Are you going to tell me what I want to know or must I painfully kill every member of the encampment," The revenant said maliciously. "Obviously, I prefer one over the other."

Lanaya slowly shook her head, her body aching in pain, her mind screaming in agony at the fate of her fellows. Blazt walked up to the hysterical Cammen and selected a firebomb from his belt before shoving it into the young elf's mouth.

"Tell me Lanaya, or I'll blow it up," He chuckled. When he got no response, he waved his hand lightly, igniting the explosive in Cammen's mouth. Gasps and screams echoed through the bloody camp as the demon's continued to slowly kill the remaining elves.

"No..." The keeper whispered pointlessly as a desire demon ate Varathorn's face.

Then, the revenant loomed over her again and one of his hands closed around her ear.

"No! Stop it, I'll tell you," Lanaya screamed. "He took them to Denerim!"

"You know, I can sense when you're lying," Blazt whispered before tearing one of the elf's ears off causing blood to spurt. He used his magic to ensure the young woman would stay awake. It was about time these mortals learnt their place in the world. He felt orgasmic pleasure when he realized how much worse he would do to his prey when he found them.

"Very well, looks like I have to push things further," The revenant sighed as he twisted one of Lanaya's legs more than one hundred and eighty degrees. He gestured to one of the demons. "Rape our dear keeper with a knife, would you."

"What?" The desire demon barked, taken aback. Even the demons looked momentarily shocked.

"Do it or suffer it," Blazt hissed.

"He told us to meet him at some temple in the north!" Lanaya gave in, sobbing. She couldn't bear any more or watch her fellows die like this.

"Good girl," The revenant chuckled, dismissing the desire demon who looked relieved. "In return I'll give you a quick death. Just to let you know, I'll be decorating the camp with your corpses and innards for all the world to see. It's about time I sent a message to you mortals."

He lifted his mace and laughed at the writhing, bloody and broken woman before him. He smashed the weapon onto her face so hard that the mace broke too.

"Kill them all, as slowly as possible," Blazt commanded coldly. "I want their screams to echo for miles and miles. Then, arrange what's left of them around the camp."

He turned and walked away from the encampment. He had to rally an army; the temple needed protection once more. He would hurt that bastard prince so badly; he would begin finding pain pleasurable. He found that pain was much to his liking.

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_Author's Note: Do you hate Blazt more than ever now? Anyway, I'm sorry to all Dalish lovers and generally to everyone for the torture you had to read through. I doubt I'll be writing anything like this particularly often, probably only when our dear revenant shows up. Tune in next time for the promised elven god (goddess, perhaps) and things that are on the whole, a lot more pleasant. Merry christmas!_

_To my reviewers:_

_Nightwish11606: Thanks! Yeah, I agree, Morrigan would probably be a lot less reserved in her use of power. Leliana is more traditionally good, by nature. But I was just dabbling in a 'what if' scenarios. Then I read the 'elves rock' part. Then I read what I had written in this chapter. Then I cringed. A special apology to you :) _


	39. The Huntress

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Well, after that horrifically overdone torture scene, we can get back to something a bit more normal. Yeah, right. This chapter does have Blazt so it's not very pleasant at parts but nothing as bad as last time. To those of you who stepped over the blood and gore, I'll give you a quick summary. Blazt killed Roysten and his priests for defiling the old gods' temple. He then tortured the dalish elf clan keeper Lanaya to discover where Alistair took the army and got his answers. Regardless, an elven god as promised. Hope you enjoy it and do leave your thoughts. If I don't get in an update in time, then happy new year to you all!_

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Chapter 39 – The Huntress

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"_Welcome to the world, son."_

"_Father."_

"_Are you aware?"_

"_I am as strong as you."_

"_What?"_

"_Almost. You have that little extra bit. Can I have the white sphere inside you?"_

"…_Son?"_

"_You made as you are yourself, father."_

"_Why is the gold beneath your feet blackening?"_

"_I am you, father. But your opposite in every way."_

"…"

"_I don't think I like you very much, father."_

"_I think it is better if you forgot this conversation… and several other things."_

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The fire was burning everything. That was all Riordan could tell. Every building, every blade of grass in the town was being incinerated, casting a haunting orange glow across the region. He and his group of soldiers had found this village only because of the towering flames. The third and only grey warden in Ferelden, it felt strange. Especially since the blight seemed gone.

And they had received a demon invasion instead. He blinked as ash entered his eyes, making them tear up. He couldn't see much with his now watery vision but he could make out the shadows of soldiers fighting demons among the flames. He ran an arcane horror through from behind and drew his blade out. It was like the end of the world. He thought he could hear screams but the roaring of the fire drowned everything out. He dashed amongst houses, peering in when he could. All he found was charred, ashen bodies.

He turned around and brought his blade down to remove a hunger demon's hand. It roared in pain as Riordan slashed it to death. He heard a deafening sound behind him and turned, only to gasp. A vast tornado of flame consumed a number of his men and slowly, it dissipated. From within the inferno, a revenant emerged. It walked slowly, flames licking its armored body as it spun a mystifying weapon in its hand. Its eyes glowed a red that was far more horrific than any fire.

"A grey warden," It said, its deep voice carrying effortlessly over the crackling and screaming. "And here I thought I had destroyed your entire order when I crushed Weisshaupt."

Riordan's knees almost buckled. It was a bluff, it had to be. Nothing could destroy Weisshaupt, no army was enough. And yet, there was something in those red eyes, something that made him believe every word. And aroused in him a need to make the horrid creature see justice, regardless of whether it lied. He drew his blade and strode towards it.

"I do not know what your crimes are," He said fiercely. "But one look in your eyes tells me that you must die. It feels like justice."

"There is no such thing as justice," The revenant said softly. "You, as a grey warden, should know that. Regardless, you will die and I will enjoy every moment of it."

Riordan brought his blade down in a deadly arc and it clashed against the revenant's swordstaff. The flames seemed to rise higher, as if in response to the battle.

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The Fade's unusual landscapes loomed around Alisa as she strode towards the next portal, Lance next to her, the gods leading. Fen'harel paused and gestured them through, they had spoke little. They all knew time was running out.

She emerged upon a platform much like the others, suspended in empty space. This was impressively large though, or at least she thought it was. It was difficult to tell though, since the entire platform was covered in a dense jungle and they had emerged into it. Ghilan'nain, Sylaise and June stayed quiet; Alisa could barely see them in the utter absence of light. The forest canopy cast everything beneath it into silent shadow.

She didn't want to admit it but the trees scared her. They seemed twisted and it was almost as though they had cruel talons and horrifying appendages. In the midst of it all, she could swear she saw trees that bore faint resemblances to her companions being tortured. She looked away on instinct and glanced at the dread wolf with a nervous look in her eyes.

"Here is sealed Andruil, Goddess of the Hunt," He growled quietly, ignoring Alisa and Lance's shiftiness. "Walk to the other end of the forest and release her."

There was nothing more to be said, there was no point in saying more to Fen'harel. That much she had learned. Unconsciously, she took Lance's hand in her own and strode into the forest. He seemed somewhat surprised at first, but then walked in a slightly more relaxed manner. The gravel beneath their feet crunched softly as they strode in the dark. The trees seemed to have minds of their own. The leaves would brush lightly against her cheek, causing her to lash out pointlessly in response. The wind was cold and it would be still one instant, and become a horrific gale in the next moment.

Unease was the best word she could find. She felt as though the shadows were watching, her grip on Lance's hand tightened. There was a quiet crack which caused them both to jump. She glanced into his eyes and they tried to calm themselves.

"That tree," Lance whispered with a touch of worry. "It- It looks like…"

"Alistair impaled on a spear," Alisa replied quietly. "I know. This place is probably drawing on our thoughts, just like the others."

"There's more to it than that," Lance insisted, glancing momentarily at other trees with terrifying visages. "I feel hunted."

"We're freeing the goddess of the hunt," The warden murmured. "It's possible but I think you're overreacting."

It was then that an arrow which seemed to be made of liquid shadow embedded itself in the ground before them. Their staffs were out in an instant, barriers were hastily erected. A pair of arrows melted in contact with the barrier, weakening it significantly. They _were _being hunt.

"I _hate _it when you're right," Alisa sighed.

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Blazt shoved Riordan away from him and lobbed a fireball which the warden easily dodged. Riordan planted a sound kick on the revenant's back which unsurprisingly did nothing. Blazt backhanded him and tried to skewer him on the swordstaff. The warden fell away but he could feel his left cheek caked in blood where he had been struck. The heat from the flames all around them served only to agitate the wound further.

Riordan engaged with carefully measured blows, shocked at Blazt's incredible speed and finesse. His blows were deflected and he barely avoided counterattacks. The revenant locked their weapons together and forged a fireball in his free hand. The warden couldn't disengage in time and watched the flame rush towards his face only to be forced away at the last second. It still singed him slightly and he spun to see a mage with a determined expression on his face.

Riordan thanked him silently and rushed the demon in front of him while the mage attacked with a cold spell. Blazt jumped a surprising distance back, letting his guard down for a second. The warden grasped the firebomb on his belt and hurled it at the revenant causing its entire body to be consumed in a massive flame that seemed perfect, given the burning town.

Riordan sighed in relief and the mage seemed to relax a little. And then the fire that was washing over Blazt condensed into single, tiny sphere in his left palm revealing him to be completely unharmed.

"Nice try," The revenant laughed as he lobbed the miniscule sphere at the mage.

Riordan shouted a warning to his companion but it was too late as the tiny ball touched the ground at the mage's feet. It exploded into a magnificent blaze of fire which tore the mage to pieces, burning the flying body parts to ash. The warden resisted the urge to vomit as an unidentifiable, charred piece of the mage's body landed at his feet. He looked into the horrendous red eyes of the demon and decided to retreat for the time being.

He ducked into a home that was not suffering too badly from the flames and rushed up the stairs. He cried out as one of the steps gave way beneath him and the roaring fire burnt his leg. He clambered up the remaining steps and as he burst onto the roof he could hear the revenant's armored boots slam against the charred wood.

He turned around and readied his blade as the demon ignored the stairs and simply jumped onto the roof. Surprised, he barely blocked Blazt's weapon but the demon's fist slammed into his face causing his nose to break. He groaned as fresh blood spurted onto his face. He ducked beneath the demon's next blow and stabbed it in the thigh. Blazt roared angrily and slammed the blunt end of his weapon onto Riordan's back. The warden gasped and fell to the ground, pain surging through his spinal cord. He rolled out of the way of a fatal blow and staggered to his feet.

He dodged another slash and found his opening. He kicked the revenant hard in the chest causing it to lose balance and fall from the roof. With a thunderous crack, the demon's body fell into a massive pile of burning debris. Panting, Riordan stared on with horror as the pile of flaming wood broke away and Blazt stood up with anger glinting in his eyes.

"We've only just begun, little warden," He hissed. "I will enjoy playing with you."

He clenched his right hand and the building Riordan was standing on exploded in an enormous burst of flame. He felt himself catapulted through the air like a limp doll and crashed hard on the ground, undoubtedly breaking a few bones. He let out a single cry of pain as he rolled across the ground to smother the flames that were attempting to devour his body.

He got up slowly and dusted himself off and raised his blade once more, which he had luckily managed to keep with him. He was tired and his body was broken, he hoped the revenant was somewhat spent as well. Either way, what was to come would be the end for one of them. He watched Blazt's advance as the demon's red eyes bored into his own.

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Alisa ran through the forest as fast as she could, stumbling and clambering over overgrown roots. She and Lance took turns casting the shield that guarded them against the arrows of their unseen assailant. Or assailants, in the shadows of the forest, it was hard to tell. They had crossed a river somewhere along the way. The only reason it was notable was because it was a river of blood. The warden's shock at that moment had caused her to take an arrow in the leg.

The strange arrows, seemingly made of pure shadow were horrifically painful. It was as if they cut to her soul and not just mere flesh. The wound was slowing her down now as arrows flew from seemingly random gaps in the trees. She could have sworn she saw a moving figure from time to time but it was for only a fraction of a second and she had no time to make out who or what it was. She heard Lance cry out in relief as she noticed a door just at the end of their path.

Feeling uneasy, Alisa erected the strongest shield she could forge as a torrent of arrows rained down upon them; her shield barely absorbed them all. They ran towards the doorway and she felt herself break through some form of magical web. In that moment, the whole scene changed in a single flash. It was as though the shadows were whisked away, leaving the forest as it had once been.

The trees were now shaped in elegant and beautiful ways, their leaves a lush green. Light, blessed light, leaked from the canopy casting the entire area in an ethereal glow. The river which once ran blood, now ran crystal clear water, revealing its lovely bed, covered in smooth white stones. The once harsh and cold wind gave way to a gentle warm breeze that caressed her face. And before the gate they had to break, their assailant was revealed.

Lance blinked several times as he stared at the small creature before them. It was barely two feet high, with scaly red skin and somewhat pointed ears. It had sharp, green eyes and somewhat nimble fingers holding on to the most pathetic bow Alisa had seen in her life. It was a piece of cracked wood with a slack string and arrows that looked more like twigs.

"That's it?" Lance asked as he tossed a blast of lightning causing the imp to burst into its constituent magics.

"Do not fear what lurks in the darkness," Fen'harel growled from behind them. "Fear only the darkness itself. Now, open the gate."

The forest that covered the platform dissipated into microscopic white spheres of magic, along with the river. They were left standing on an ordinary platform, much like the ones they had been on before. Alisa reached out and placed her hand on the door, causing it to crumble to dust.

Lance grabbed Alisa and pulled her aside as the other gods stood waiting. Andruil emerged from the doorway moments later. She was tall and long brown hair ran down to the middle of her back. Her face was regal and calm with blue eyes. She wore leather armor in a faint but shining shade of gold and held a magnificent bow in her hands. It was made of pure white wood, with a string that seemed to be forged of diamonds. Carvings of animals ran across the bow's length. The goddess' eyes hardened the instant she saw the dread wolf.

Without pausing to say a word, she drew what seemed to be an arrow made of solid white light from thin air. She stretched her bow taught and said only a single word.

"Traitor."

The missile flew towards Fen'harel, with enough force to destroy an entire city. The wolf roared and a bolt of his own magic struck the arrow, causing them both to implode in a small burst of light. Ghilan'nain moved with inhuman speed and grasped Andruil's arms to keep from attacking again.

"Stop," The mother of the Halla said firmly. "We all seek revenge, but this is not the time."

"Ghilan'nain?" The goddess of the hunt asked in surprise. "What is going on?"

"The end of existence." Fen'harel replied flatly.

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"_These are your brother and your sisters, son. You must guide them, as you are the eldest."_

"_I understand, father. We shall praise your name and ensure that all your creations do so as well."_

"_I could not have asked for a better son."_

"_I will be your favorite, won't I?"_

"_Of course, always. I will never create others to match you and your siblings."_

"_Otherwise, I may destroy everything father."_

"…_Son?"_

"_I can do it you know."_

"_Please do not."_

"_Very well."_

"_What shall I call you son, or what will you name yourself?"_

"_Dumat."_

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_Author's Note: Yeah, Riordan's here! So, dear readers, who do you think will win the duel between him and Blazt? Will Riordan bring the demon to justice or will the revenant painfully slaughter another warden? I already know the outcome, but your opinions would be nice to hear. Next time, I think we can take a look at Leliana, don't you? Hope you enjoy it. Do leave your feedback. See you next time._

_To my reviewers:_

_Nightwish11606: Thanks! And yeah, I went there didn't I. Oh well, it was to set up Blazt a bit before the eventual finale. Although yes, he is turning pretty satanical. Your story's going there too, huh? Can't wait :P_

_Trystan438: Thanks! Yeah, you have a point on the drama/horror thing but I'll have to think about it. I suppose the direction this takes from here will decide that. Yep I'm alive and kicking and should be updating quicker._

_Interesting2125: Thanks a lot! Yeah, the merry holiday season brings out the worst in me, no idea why. The blood and torture is more to accentuate Blazt's new love for sadism and to set him up before the big final battle. Expecting the unexpected is a bit of a paradox :P Admittedly though, you are pretty good at guessing my twists ;)_


	40. Mind Over Matter

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: First, sorry for the clichéd chapter title. And yeah, this one really got late. Mainly because there was one particular bit I rewrote about a thousand times since there were a lot of ways I could have handled it. I eventually settled on this because it serves the story well, in the ways that I want it to considering where this is going to go. Allow me to warn you for minor horror and a somewhat dark chapter. There's a bit of gore at one bit, so watch for that as well if you're squeamish. Hope you like it, hope it came out alright! Do tell me what you think.__Other than that, I hit 100,000 words and 40 chapters, yay! Anything particular you guys expect to see now that we're so far in? I'd be interested to know!_

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Chapter 40 – Mind Over Matter

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The shadows are not repelled forever; sometimes the eternal darkness descends because it must. The sun does not always rise, heroes do not live forever. Sometimes, the darkness is too powerful to be fought. But what sets true heroes apart is that they do fight, even as the sun sets upon the world.

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The desert wind blew somewhat harshly, though it was no longer irritating. Its only effect being to let her long red hair flutter a bit. Leliana stared blankly at what stood before her. For what seemed like forever she had been marooned in what she knew to be the broken pieces of her sanity. Her mind had been shattered, and Dumat had lied. She choked for a moment, of course he had lied. It wasn't just the words, it never was. He had hammered her mind to pieces with magic and locked it so she couldn't put it back together. And to pour salt upon the aching wound, he had left her the key. All she had to do was assuage the guilt that was draped upon her. She couldn't do it.

How could you deny something being your fault when it was? She knew she could save herself with merely magic but that would set the dragon lord free. And that would be the end of reality. She blinked and looked again at the figure before her. It looked exactly like she had once looked, before being cursed. The same shoulder length hair, the old chantry robes and the eyes that were like blue pools and not shards of ice. The thing had introduced itself as her subconscious. And she had conversed with it, of course. Talking to anything that talked back was some form of escape from the nightmare she was in.

"It's all my fault," She murmured to her subconscious.

"Yes, it is," Her double responded calmly. "You'll never be able to deny that."

"Then I'm stuck here forever," Leliana murmured blankly.

"Is realizing that it's not your fault always equivalent to denying guilt?" Her subconscious asked gently. "Do you have something left to fight for?"

"Morrigan, Alisa and the others," The bard whispered.

"You don't even know if they're still alive," Her double replied coldly. "You can't fight for what may not exist."

Leliana made a conscious effort not to cry. Were they really dead? All because of her?

"Paradise, fight to regain it," She mumbled.

"You want to fight for paradise?" Her subconscious quirked an eyebrow. "Dumat's visions of what once was were tempting, I take it."

"Is it worth fighting for?" The bard asked softly.

"You and I both know it isn't," Her double said with a hint of sadness. "Dumat killed paradise, poisoned it for eternity. You'll never get it back."

"Why does one being have the capacity to destroy a good life for every living thing to ever come?" Leliana screamed in frustration.

"What, were you under the impression that the world is a fair place?"

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In the burning town, Riordan stared at the advancing revenant. Its armor and weapons glinted in the glow of the fire, giving the demon an imposing look. He had no idea what had happened to the men he had brought with him. He had seen many die; he could only assume the others had met similar fates. He would exact what vengeance he could, by killing the beast before them.

And then a chittering cry broke the roar of the fire and the occasional screams. The flames seemed to waver with the voice as an immense shadow appeared amongst the flames. Screaming, the Varterral charged through the fire, making a beeline for Blazt. Riordan stepped away carefully, he had heard about these beasts from the soldiers. Apparently they were allies but the warden was unprepared to trust them wholly.

"Things have changed from last time you wretched beast," The revenant said calmly before jumping an obscene height in the air.

He sheathed his swordstaff mid jump and landed on the beast's shoulder. His arms began to glow a jet black as he grasped two of the Varterral's flailing limbs. And then Blazt jumped, tugging at the appendages. Riordan whimpered unintentionally as the revenant literally ripped off the top half of the monster's body, killing it instantly. He then unsheathed his swordstaff calmly and turned towards the warden once more.

"It is about time those creatures began to die," He said, the flames roaring higher around him. "And now, it is your turn. You must realize, I am quite unstoppable."

With that, Blazt charged as his weapon clashed with Riordan's blade, spraying sparks around them. The revenant struck the warden hard in the gut with his free hand, knocking him several feet away. Riordan staggered to his feet, barely blocking a deadly blow. A small sphere of spiky ice appeared in Blazt's palm as he slammed it into the warden's leg. Riordan fell back with a shout as the revenant waved his hand. The sphere detonated inside his leg, inciting more shrieks of pain and immobilizing him almost completely. Blazt grabbed him like a ragdoll and slammed him onto the ground. He could do nothing.

He could do nothing as Blazt slammed the blunt end of the swordstaff into the base of his skull.

He could do nothing as Blazt snapped his leg bones like twigs.

He could do nothing as Blazt began to set his body on fire.

He could do nothing as Blazt tore his arms off.

He could do nothing as Blazt slammed the blade of the swordstaff into his head.

Nothing. Only failure. And the darkness that waited to embrace him.

"This isn't a fairy tale, warden. Good doesn't always win. There is no such thing as justice."

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"Why would Dumat end the world?" Leliana said blankly, looking at the ground.

"Because he can," Her subconscious replied. "It's the best motive of all."

The wind had died down and the bard looked around the ruins. Cracked walls and collapsed houses, not a drop of water or a blade of grass. And scratched crudely into the weathered stone were caricatures of people she had known, mutilated beyond measure. The grotesque figures were shown to be hugging surprisingly realistic drawings of her. In that wretched black armor. And a single carving on the largest broken wall.

_Dear Leliana,_

_Everyone loves you. A great deal._

_Regards,_

_Dumat_

She slammed her fist into the message for what she thought must have been the hundredth time. As usual there was no change. The message seemed only to leer at her, laughing, mocking. Next to it were more drawings, the same hideous figures burnt, mutilated even more than before. The first set of pictures could have been drawn by a child with no knowledge of art. But these? These were horrifyingly crude, purposefully violent. And the same hyper realistic drawings of her. This time laughing. And she was casting a shadow in the carvings. The shadow of a black dragon with white eyes. And another message on another wall. The only other message.

_Dear Leliana,_

_You love everyone too. That's why you killed them._

_Regards,_

_Dumat_

She punched this message as well, to no avail. She couldn't think clearly, no matter how hard she tried.

"What _are _these things?" She hissed, voice quavering in anger.

"You know better than I do," Her double sighed. "The end of the world, what fate has in store."

"You aren't my subconscious, are you?"

"Does it matter either way?" Her double smirked. "I'm you just as much as those drawings are."

"That's not me!" Leliana screamed.

"Could have fooled me," The doppelganger laughed. "And this really isn't helping your efforts to get out of her."

"There's nothing left," The bard murmured. "He's killed it all. He beat me effortlessly."

"He'll always beat you effortlessly," Her double replied frankly. "You will _never _best Dumat. I'm afraid there's no one left in the world that can. But does that mean you stop trying?"

"Those truly devoted to their cause never surrender, do they?" Leliana whispered to herself. "Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter."

The doppelganger nodded, apparently satisfied. "Even if everything is burning in the darkness, you will live because you have to fight. If you are the person you always were, you will fight the inevitable darkness till the end. And this prison is not the end. The reason to keep fighting is to keep fighting."

And to the bard's shock, a single blade of grass grew from the sand and there was a single drop of rain. And from it grew a single stalk with a bud that bloomed into a lovely rose. Just like the rose she had seen at the chantry in Lothering before joining Alisa. The rose that had started this journey and the rose that would let her resume it. More greenery began to grow as rain began to fall. The nightmarish prison wavered as the water washed away the drawings and the letters. But the buildings stayed cracked.

"This hasn't fixed everything you know," Leliana said softly. "I'm still guilty."

"The point was to free you without releasing Dumat," Her double laughed. "Your guilt will be redeemed by your actions. Everyone deserves that chance, you know. Even if the dragon lord wins, you will find your requiem in fighting to whatever end."

And then the illusion shattered.

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Morrigan lay in a pool of blood, barely awake, almost dead. She could feel the last of her life begin to ebb away. No magic left to fix herself. Leliana lay on the floor, unmoving. Her mother had made no movement either. Had they really lost? Had the lord of dragons led them in a merry dance before stepping on them like insects?

_Of course I led you. Did you think you mortals actually mattered?_

The witch's mind jerked at the uncomfortable, alien thoughts. Dumat's voice, come on last time to end it all. Her vision began to cloud in shadow.

_Especially you. You were raised to be our tool. You aren't even a real person._

Of course she wasn't. She was destiny's fool, dancing along a bright path to be raped at a shadowy corner. Things had actually began to look up, she had been close to finding happiness, maybe even a lover. And then fate had hammered her until she gave in died. She could see almost nothing now. Death was welcome; it would stop the infernal pain.

_For all you cynical views, you always did wish that life was a fairy tale. That evil would rear its ugly head and the heroes would behead it. And everyone would live happily ever after. Welcome to reality you naïve bitch. It's a horrible world and that's all it will ever be. The only beings that are fit to enjoy it are gods because we have the power to seize happiness and enjoyment. You mortals are too weak to have what you want, and you always will be._

So she had been right all along. There was nothing to good deeds and helping others. Leliana had almost made her change her views. That was foolish, there was no such thing as happiness. Good deeds weren't rewarded, you were punished for them. Yes, welcome to the world. She had figured it out far too late. She was nearly blind now; she could go ahead and die.

_You will never have what mortals have always sought. There will never be peace. Paradise has forever been injected with venom._

And then she saw Leliana stir. Instinctively she threw the presence from her mind. Her vision cleared. There was something left to live for.

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_Author's Note: Well, I hope you enjoyed it. And I have a question for you, dear readers. How many if you think that was actually Leliana's __subconscious? If not, what do you think it was? Leave me your feedback and thoughts. Next update should come quicker since I don't need to be so heavy with the next chapter._

_To my reviewers:_

_interesting2125: Thanks for the review! And now you know everything about Leli and Morri except what I'm not telling you :P Your guesses are generally spot on. And the elven gods will kick ass soon, patience my friend._

_Nightwish11606: Thanks! And now you know what happened to your lovely ladies. Well, parts of it anyway. Yes, there may be an awesome, big war with gods and armies and demons and everything else. But I won't tell you :P Anyway, thanks again!_

_Trystan438: Thanks! And happy new year to you too. Yeah, Riordan failed again. Seems like that's his destiny, which I may refer back to at some point. And Leli and Morri are back at last! And I've realized that juggling 4 sets of characters doing different things is hard lol. Maybe back to Alistair next time._


	41. Once Upon a Time in Paradise

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Ladies and gentlemen, today I have something a bit different for you. This, this is a fairy tale. It's a bit different to how I usually write but I found it a good place to pick up from last chapter's themes. And of course you'll get a happy ending. What, you don't believe me? Well, you'll see. This is also the end of the history arc I've been writing about with a spacing of about 10 chapters in between. There are other events in the past we will refer back to but those come later. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it and do leave your thoughts._

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Chapter 41 - Once Upon a Time in Paradise

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"_Do you know how many people would die to kill you? Do you know how many people you've killed because you felt like it? Do you comprehend the damage you've done to the heart of reality? And why did you do it all, boredom? Because you could? You've destroyed all that ever was and nothing will ever be the same again. At least not until you're gone."_

"_Do you want to know a secret?"_

"_What is it you black hearted monstrosity?"_

"_Utopia is incredibly dull."_

"_I would give my soul to hate you."_

"_You already have."_

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This is a tale from the days when paradise still reigned upon the world. Gods walked among men and the core of mortality's soul was pure. That is not to say that darkness did not reign. Those were dark days, perhaps the darkest Thedas has ever seen. The ground blackened everywhere; the trees died and rose as demonic beasts. Racial hatred was born in this crucible of shadows. And high in the clouded sky, the dragon lord laughed in his impending victory.

The forests around the great city of Arlathan were reduced to barely a hundred miles. What was once the legendary empire of the elves was now the last flickering light amidst the endless shadow. And that last spark was decadent and terrified. The elven gods could not act, for their defeat at the dragon lord's hands had rendered them far too stunned to act. The great wolf did what he could, but never was it enough to stop the threat. He would push it back, only for it to rise and surge forward in the presence of the god of silence. Even he had nearly given up; there was no way to win.

And yet, in the very deepest chasms of his mind, Fen'harel was alright with dying. For deep down, he knew that the seed from which all had grown, the heart of the world still sang of paradise. And whatever happened, the dragon lord would fall one day, by virtue of the seed. He was hard pressed to believe it however, for the clouds above his head seemed eternal.

And somewhere, in the depths of darkness and filth, a young human girl prayed. The humans were birthed of a shadowy contract with the lord of dragons and yet they had retained some of their free will. And this young girl, prayed not to the shadows she and her friends drowned in. She heard the soft song of the seed of paradise, however muffled it might have been. And she begged, and she prayed.

"Give me the strength to revolutionize the world, to burn the darkness away forever!" She would cry each day as the dragons took more sacrifices.

And day by day, her desperate, hopeful cries broke through the endless layers of darkness and reverberated in the heart of the world. And she was given the gift she had always sought. The young girl, wearing rags and bone thin arose as something new. She arose as the champion of utopia, her armor an iridescent white. Her sword, a blade of liquid light. And she strode from her squalor and burnt away the shadow. The blinding light made green grow upon the black trees and made the ground fertile once more. The endlessly cloudy sky cleared and the sun shone through. Pure rain fell from the skies as they saw the first rainbow they had ever seen.

And the rage of the dragons nearly brought down the world. In burning vengeance, Andoral killed every single person she had known and loved. He tore them apart with twisted chains and she stared on, drowning in their shrieks of pain. And in that moment, she truly saw the darkness behind it all. She saw the white eyes of Dumat and the chains restraining her snapped. And she fought Andoral, in a clash that burnt the world for miles around. And she won.

The dragon god of chains fled in manic rage, blinded by the bloody wounds inflicted by her sword of light. She buried all the victims in tombs of diamond as she strode towards the heart of the abyss. She fought each of the dragons and won. They fled before her awesome power until she stood before the lord of dragons himself. And in those white eyes and that black form, she saw only death and corruption.

"Do you want to know a secret?" The dragon lord laughed.

"What is it you black hearted monstrosity?" She hissed, her liquid blue eyes narrowing.

"Utopia is incredibly dull." He said softly.

"I would give my soul to hate you." She screamed, hair flapping.

"You already have. The entire world has and always will. For there is naught but silence." He echoed before descending upon her.

And they fought a terrible battle for what seemed to be forever. Her body bloody and broken, she had almost beaten the god of silence, her will as strong as ever. And then Dumat took upon himself the form of a human, just like her but her opposite in every way. Wearing armor made of pitch black, and eyes that looked like shards of ice, he charged with the last of his strength, wielding a sword made of liquid darkness. And she charged with the last of her strength, wielding a sword of liquid light. And they clashed for the last time as a magnificent explosion rocked the world.

And the white sword flew high into the air as the lord of dragons thrust his sword through the heart of paradise's champion. She uttered a small cry as her sword reached the highest point in its arc and Dumat laughed. Not the fairy tale ending the world wanted, the champion had lost. The dragon lord had won.

But deep in the golden city, the Maker had seen enough. He struck the dragons down, imprisoning their souls with a wisp of thought and beginning to force their bodies deep into the ground. The lord of dragons fought, to no avail. After what seemed to be an eternity, the world was rid of the darkness.

Fen'harel had received his miracle.

And yet, as the sword of liquid light fell, it cut the body of the god of silence. And a single drop of venomous blood fell to the ground. It sank deep, both into the earth and the souls of mortals. It sank until it struck the seed of paradise. And that single drop of blood poisoned and tainted it forever. The young girl's face contorted in rage one last time before she died. And Dumat laughed one last time before he was sealed away.

Even in his defeat, he had killed paradise forever.

This is the tale carved upon the walls of the dead city of Arlathan. How much of it is true, is up to the one who reads it.

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_Author's Note: So dear readers, how much of the tale do you believe? And for another little question, how much from this chapter seems familiar from earlier in the story? Ah well, you'll see where it's all going soon enough. Hope you liked it and do leave your thoughts! Next update should be reasonably quick although I'm afraid you're all in for a slightly unpleasant surprise._

_To my reviewers:_

_Nightwish11606: Thanks so much! If you think it's her subconscious then that's what it is. Some things I like to leave to my readers to decide, regardless of what I may have had in mind. I couldn't possibly kill Morrigan yet :P She still has a big role to play, although I am unable to guarantee her survival for the entire story but you know me. I'm glad the ending was touching but I warn you that on the whole, things will get worse before they get better. Cheers! _


	42. Graceful Fall

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: Well, here we are. An advance warning for the rest of the story, things will get worse before they get better. Anyway, enjoy and do leave your thoughts._

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Chapter 42 – Graceful Fall

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_The line between justice and vengeance is painfully thin._

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"_What is the cost of paradise?" Andruil's soft voice in the fade._

"_There is no such thing, not anymore," The dread wolf's growl. "Don't you see? He won, cast the world to death."_

"_He's gone now, there has to be a price! There always is."_

"_Then no more gods is your answer. I'm locking you away now."_

"_TRAITOR!"_

"_You asked for the price, and now you'll damn well pay it. Caveat emptor."_

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_3 days earlier,_

The messenger walked cautiously through the forest, brushing each bush aside with the utmost care. He didn't want to draw attention to himself; the signs around him were worrying. It was unusual for it to be so quite, not a bird chirped and not an animal could be seen. And the stench of death hung in the air like a shroud. The next clearing should have the dalish encampment. The first group of warriors had rendezvoused with Alistair's army but the second group was worryingly late. And then the messenger pushed the last set of ferns aside and froze in his tracks.

Death. That was the first and only word that came to him. His next reaction was to fall to his knees and throw up. The camp had been desecrated but that was too light a word. Bodies hung from trees, bloody and twisted with chunks of flesh missing. He yelped and ran further into the encampment and screamed when he saw a body lying on a table, its head a bloody pulp. He backed up against one of the standing tents, gibbering.

Their houses burnt, the corpses of even their Halla lay scattered across the camp. Each body seemed to have been arranged with the utmost of care to provoke the most extreme response possible. Tears streamed from his eyes as he noticed an old woman with a metal rod shoved through her body. He shrieked almost hard enough to tear his voice box as a hand closed softly around the back of his neck.

"Surprise," A desire demon cooed from behind as she bit his ear, drawing blood. She licked her lips. "Like what you see?"

The messenger spun around and drew his blade, holding it forward in quivering hands. Monsters. Revenge. Those were the next words that popped into his mind. His fear dissolved as he noticed two young elves, bodies torn to shreds arranged in a horrid pose. He roared in rage and charged the demon, blood boiling.

The demon elegantly sidestepped the rash blow and thrust her nails into his gut before letting frost magic leak into his blood stream. She laughed slowly.

"So angry aren't you?" She crowed. "Can't even aim a sword strike."

The messenger fell to his knees, freezing on the inside. And then the horrendous sensation stopped. The demon withdrew her nails slowly and drank the bits of blood collected on them.

"Go back to your little army," She whispered. "Tell them every bloody detail. And give them this."

She picked up a cloth bag from a table and tossed it over. She stalked away, walking into a fade portal that opened behind her. It closed promptly. Shivering, the messenger opened the bag and hung his head. An elf's head, ear, tongue and eyes gone. He had to get back to the army. They had to know, it would take the better part of three days. And there was a single word carved into the forehead of the elf's head.

Blazt.

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_The present,_

"The army is gathering for an attack," A desire demon murmured to Blazt.

The revenant stood in the shade of the old gods' temple, the heart of an empire that was long dead. Things had changed it would seem. It looked as through fog slipped from the temple's gaping maw, the lyrium circle at its heart glowing. And the revenant awaited the attack from the army. Only two wardens left in Ferelden. His personal little project was close to completion. He would break the order beyond repair. Between the army, monstrous trees with charred barks strode impatiently and an aura of malice echoed from Blazt's soul.

"Tell the army to ready itself," He replied. "We have already won."

"How can you be so confident, if you will pardon the question? Their army is enormous," The desire demon said uncertainly.

"We will win because they have forgotten what they fight for," Blazt replied plainly. "The time for justice and light is long past. Bloodlust infects them all, revenge and wrath is all that remains. You win by breaking the enemy. Their souls and minds are cracked and wailing under the magnitude of what I have done to their home. And now that every single soul is smashed, I will finish their bodies."

The desire demon almost had a look of shock on her face. Demons had gone as far before but what horrified her was the glowing red eyes of the revenant. In those burning pits was the potential for limitless pain.

"I-if I may, why do you fight for the o-old gods?" She stuttered, choosing to push her luck.

"Why do you assume the means require an end?" He laughed, and the look of horror finally descended on her face. "I enjoy destroying everything, breaking every soul and tearing the bodies to shreds and taking their power and adding their weapons to my collection. You should know this; I will stand at the end of the world and laugh."

"I will inform the army," The desire demon said quickly before turning away. "Now that the world is at the brink of war and madness. This next battle will decide it all."

The revenant felt her run, he scarcely cared. His whisper was lost to the winds. "The brink of war? Fool. When the world is truly at the brink of total war, no one will see it coming."

Somewhere in the dark night, Blazt sensed the scream of a hundred minds and souls. So they had finally learned of what he had done to the elves. A horn rang out across the plain; it swore vengeance and shrieked rage. And the revenant laughed, his insane laughter rang across the world. The demons shrank at the sounds. In the camp across the plain and over the hill, the elven sentry Mithra swore she could hear the demonic laughter and her tears flowed harder as she hugged the severed head close to her.

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Leliana stirred and arose. She glanced around the silent, black city. She reacted instantly when saw Morrigan and Flemeth lying unmoving in pools of blood. Twin streams of healing flew from her hand, mending wounds and restoring strength.

_The silent, black city. The heart of paradise long dead. Poisoned, forever. Just like every single, bloody soul._

She shook her head as the streams dissipated, their work done. The witch and her mother got to their feet slowly and shook their heads. Morrigan turned to run towards her.

_Dead, everything is dead. He killed it all and there's nothing anyone can do about it. You can't beat Dumat, there's no one left who can._

She held her hands out with a groan. The witch stopped with a puzzled look. Her yellow eyes widened at the haunted look on the bard's face.

_You love everyone too. That's why you killed them._

"Leliana! Leliana!" Morrigan shouted, shaking the unresponsive Orlesian.

_All your fault. His too, I suppose. After all, he damned every single mortal at no cost to himself. That one drop of venom, it's always enough._

The witch shoved the bard's hands aside and drew their faces close.

"What is it?" She shouted hysterically at the terrifying expression on Leliana's face. "Talk to me!"

_It's all fate you know. The darkness always wins, because that is the essence of your souls. White is black, black is white. You're the evil one. _

The bard pushed Morrigan away unconsciously, grabbing her own long red hair and whimpering.

_White is just a really strange shade of black. Everything is a shade of black, naïve girl._

Leliana screamed Dumat's name in bloody rage. The black city echoed with the syllables of the god's name and the spark of creation seemed to almost quiver.

_That's right. He is the cause for everything. Once he's gone, everything will be a shade of white again. The seed of utopia mutates slowly into the seed of dystopia. _

Morrigan drew close again and pulled the bard's face close. Leliana shoved her away with enough force to almost drop her to the ground. The witch's eyes widened in shock as she looked at the ice shards in the Orlesian's eyes.

"Get away," Leliana snapped. "We don't have time for this nonsense."

She glanced at her fallen pack. Her old black armor poked from it.

_That's right, messiah of the end. Accept your fate and win with it. It's the only way he'll ever lose._

She grabbed the pack and turned to leave the black city, completely ignoring Flemeth's surprised look and the hurt in Morrigan's eyes.

"Come on," Leliana said coldly. "I have a god to kill."

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And how she fell. Like a magnificent dancer, no less should be expected from a bard. She danced upon the holy light, spinning the golden eyed witch with her. And with perfection, she tossed her partner aside. With such elegance did she slip and begin to fall. The white wings upon her back blackened slowly. Poisoned by the same venom that killed paradise. So graceful was the fall that she never knew she fell. She had been wrong, you know. It wasn't just magic, Dumat had truly broken her. And there was no easy recovery. For justice and fighting for those she loved were no longer the point, it was about bloody vengeance.

In the heart of shadows, the dragon lord uttered a single statement. Enough to encompass all the rage that had been spilt upon the hearts of those that would oppose him.

"We have won."

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_Author's Note: Well dear readers, I'm almost done setting up the final conflict. Do you think Dumat's right? Can you honestly blame our heroes for being angry? Oh, Leliana's gone crazy you say? Well, we'll get to that in good time. Hope you liked it. Do leave your thoughts. I should be able to update soon._

_To my reviewers:_

_interesting2125: Thanks for the review! Certainly, Leli can be on, none or even both. Whichever way, that is more to draw a parallel later in the story. And no, I won't be using time travel in that way but I'm not ruling out the concept all together. You'll see what I mean soon enough._

_Nightwish11606: Thanks! I wouldn't worry too much about Morri, I'd say the same thing about any character. I prefer not to reveal the fates of the heroes till we get to them. Anyway, Morrigan isn't the one I'd be worried about if I were you ;) The champion is more a parallel/metaphor for what's coming, but yes, Leli can be considered to be either one. That was the intention after all. Ah, writer's block is a horrible thing, hate it when it happens to me. Although I find that every author has their own way of getting over it. Hope you get a creative burst soon! I'll be waiting._


	43. The Call to Battle

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: And let us take our first steps towards the climax. Since we have a big battle now, gore warnings will stick till the end of the story, more or less. Also, this chapter contains some timeline skipping, partly because this part of the story demands it and also to bring all our different groups onto the same page. Well, hope you enjoy it and do leave your thoughts._

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Chapter 43 – The Call to Battle

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_They rush in red and purple from the red clouds of the morn, __  
__From the temples where the yellow gods shut up their eyes in scorn; __  
__They rise in green robes roaring from the green hells of the sea __  
__Where fallen skies and evil hues and eyeless creatures be._

_~Excerpt from 'Lepanto', a poem by G.K. Chesterton_

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"Is this how it would have happened either way?" Razikale asks, words meant only for the dragon lord.

"They cannot change their fate, mortals never can," The reply echoes.

"Do we have anything to fear?"

"Don't you see? Their hearts are now as black as the seed of life."

"But it is not wrong for them to feel that way. After all, their homeland has been devastated, their friends and families killed and eaten. Anger is only natural; revenge is not a surprising thought."

"Do you now see the brilliance of it?"

"You… we can never lose. I understand, they will die because they act normally. And that is all they can do."

"The seed from which everything sprung except the gods. Now it is dying, and my influence renders me invulnerable to mortal hands. I will relish destroying the creators, the only ones who can still think of touching me."

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Leliana strode from the black city without a second thought, departing by the same portal they used to enter. Morrigan and Flemeth were a bit slower to leave, being reluctant to let the spark of creation rest naked and exposed within a city whose doors were wide open.

"Leave it be Morrigan," The shapeshifter snapped. "We can't touch it, let alone protect it. Besides, the only way to enter the black city is by the eluvian portals."

The witch consented before following her mother down the great stairway. The look on Leliana's face worried her; she had become used to seeing the warmth in those eyes. And now there was bloodlust in those same eyes, a desire for revenge upon the lord of dragons. Her own encounters with the god of silence had been few and far between but she had barely lived through them. And his blasted words would echo in her skull for eternity, it seemed. That she was raised to be a tool and nothing more, a certain set of views indoctrinated into her to perform a scripted role. That she understood nothing about the world, only that she though she did. Naïve from the wrong viewpoint. And yet, those were things that could be cured. Leliana had, perhaps unknowingly, shown her a reason to live and a way to change. It was only fitting that she do the same in return. The first step on the long path to change.

She sighed and stepped through the portal after her mother. Confronting Flemeth would have to wait until the world wasn't dying. She glanced around after emerging from the mirror and closed her eyes instinctively. Leliana was wearing the black armor. The same accursed armor she had torn from the bard's body that night. It seemed pleased to be back in its rightful place, every bloodstain gone. It seemed to hug her form, pleased to be reunited with its owner. And her eyes gave it all away; she had wanted power to deal with the blade that hung at their throat. In her eyes she had needed it, not just wanted it. And so she had embraced it in whatever way she could. Before Morrigan could say a word, the bard had gestured for them to shapeshift and fly. For the first time in her life, the witch prayed for someone.

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"How long have we been here?" Alisa whispered to Lance as they approached another portal.

"Too long," He murmured in reply. "We'll be done soon, if we live through Fen'harel's games."

Ahead of them, the dread wolf seemed to be deep in conversation with Andruil, perhaps an argument. The fade seemed to ripple in response to the telepathic speak. Ghilan'nain, June and Sylaise said nothing and looked almost ill as though some unseen creature was smothering their presence. Alisa had tried not to notice it, so had Lance but it was too plain to miss. The creators, who had once looked so regal and grand, so as to put shame to all the beauty of the world, now looked tired. A silent, invisible miasma seemed to haunt the pathways of the fade, silencing even the utter quiet of the spirit world.

"Within here, Dirthamen and Falon'din are imprisoned," The dread wolf growled as he began to pass through the portal.

"So you had the courtesy to seal them together," Sylaise snapped before following. Fen'harel gave no response.

Alisa and Lance stared out across a plain strip of rock and a door at the end. They linked hands instinctively, waiting whatever cruel test was next. And then, white sparks condensed upon the platform and in an instant they evaporated to nothing.

"There is no more guardian magic," The dread wolf said softly. "There is no time, you have proven yourselves enough."

"What? Why couldn't you have done this before?" Lance burst out before catching his tongue.

Fen'harel roared and his form grew to dwarf reality for a moment, causing both the warden and her companion to lose their balance and fall to the ground.

"Do you not feel the presence of the dragon lord around you?" The dread wolf barked. "Do you not see how close he is to freedom? It has been an eternity since his presence could leak from the prison. Go, free the lord of the dead and the keeper of secrets."

Alisa and Lance slowly walked towards the gate, calming their breathing. The warden hesitated for a moment before placing her hand on the gate as it crumbled. The two gods emerged moments later. First emerged a tall, thin man in a flowing white robe. His skin was the palest shade Lance had ever seen. And on his back were two bronze wings that folded neatly onto themselves. His eyes were a striking grey and his black hair was short.

Beside him strode one who could be called better built, if shorter. His skin was more tanned and he wore armor that seemed to be made of living scales. His hair was the brown of a bear's fur as were his eyes. And on his back rested a horrific battleaxe that he drew a moment later. Beyond merely its intimidating size, its edges were curved and serrated, and bloody veins seemed to throb across it. He looked at the wolf with undisguised loathing, ignoring the other gods present.

The taller one, who Alisa assumed was Falon'din based on statues and old drawings she had seen, spread his wings to a majestic span and drew a bow from thin air. It was made of a wispy, semi-solid material which drew Lance's mind suspiciously close to the word 'soul'. Between the ends ran a string of humming black energy. The god of the dead drew an arrow made of charred bone from thin air and stretched the bow taut.

"Fen'harel, it is my pleasure to see justice done to you," Falon'din said with a complete lack of emotion, his grey eyes betraying nothing.

"It's about time you died!" Dirthamen snapped before charging. The dread wolf snarled but Andruil stepped between them in seemingly no time at all; the god of secrets stopped in his tracks.

"I wish to see him strung from the spires of Arlathan as much as you but you do not know the complete tale," She said with narrowed eyes.

"Then perhaps you can explain, Andruil, why a long forgotten shadow rests upon the fade like a shroud," The god of the dead said in monotone although his eyes betrayed perhaps a hint of unease.

"The dragon lord is returning, you may destroy me later," Fen'harel growled as a number of telepathic links disrupted the fade.

Alisa and Lance waited and watched, hearts beating quickly as this quest of theirs neared its end.

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Blazt's swordstaff sought victims seemingly of its own volition; it tore through flesh as magic burst from his free hand. Even he had lost some of his perspective in the chaos of the battle. The mortal fools had charged at dawn and as he had anticipated, the Varterral had joined as well. And that was why the black trees had been raised. He could see them from the corner of his eyes, grappling with the ancient guardians of Arlathan. Above all, he was waiting.

He had drawn himself far from the temple and made himself as vulnerable as possible. Before the clash, he had even ensured that the opposing army knew exactly who he was. He laughed as he crushed a human's skull with his hand. He needed to draw attention. It was, of course, the best way to find the people he wished to kill.

The armies were mixed into each other deeply, and thick smoke clogged many parts of the plain. Alistair had managed to produce an army of humans, elves and mages. They had found the gates of Orzammar locked tight to keep the demons out.

And then an arrow flew towards Blazt's back, shattering as it came in contact with the barrier he had erected around himself. He turned slowly to meet the eyes of an elven woman.

"I will tear you apart for what you did!" Mithra screamed, her lithe frame shaking with anger.

The revenant merely laughed and sheathed his swordstaff as another arrow snapped against his barrier. And then he ran at startling speed, closing the gap within a few seconds. He tore the bow from the elf's grasp as an arrow pierced his arm. Ignoring it, he snapped the weapon in two. Blazt turned to intercept an elven warrior on his right, ramming the bow pieces down the man's throat. Mithra's sword thrust into his stomach as he turned back to her without any expression. Then his fist struck her face head on, smashing her nose and bloodying her face.

"You dare step foot on holy ground?" He asked as he tugged the sword free, tossing it aside. "Idiot woman, you will bleed for the lord of dragons."

He punched her in the stomach, causing Mithra to cough a good deal of blood.

"Bleed! Bleed! Bleed!" The revenant laughed in manic, joyous glory, punctuating each word with a furious blow. He picked up Mithra like a rag doll and slammed her into the ground.

"Here is your justice," He chuckled before slamming his foot into her kneecap. The elf whimpered and struggled to rise only to have Blazt wrench her arm from its socket and slam back to the ground. She screamed freely now, blood spilling from her wounds.

"You came for revenge? You're doing a great job," The demon taunted as he picked her up again.

"Stop," Came a voice from his side and he turned to barely dodge a swipe from a Qunari's enormous sword. He recognized the man instantly.

"Haven't I fought you before?" He asked Sten in mock surprise as he tossed the elf aside.

He blocked Sten's Asala with his swordstaff, using only a single hand. And then he effortlessly pushed the Qunari back. He wondered if the man was surprised, he scarcely cared. He dashed forward and his swordstaff met Sten's blade. And then he rammed his free hand into the Qunari's stomach, conjuring a point blank fireball to send Sten reeling backwards. A wave of pure forced erupted from Blazt's weapon, sending Sten careening further away into a horde of demons that he was forced to engage.

The revenant turned back to Mithra who had struggled to her knees, she was still coughing a worrying amount of blood. He walked up to the elf and raised his swordstaff. He felt a shadow pass overhead and saw an enormous dragon descend into the demon army. If this surprised him, he did not show it. He turned back to Mithra calmly.

"You will shed tears of crimson," He whispered before slashing his blade across her eyes. The elf shrieked as blood poured from the horrendous gash.

And then the revenant noticed a figure in his peripheral vision. He preemptively raised his blade but the figure drew close at startling speed as a pair of daggers fell upon his swordstaff. And to his shock, Blazt was knocked a good two feet away by the sheer force behind the blow. He jumped to up and realization dawned. The woman standing before him was dressed in black armor that could have come from only one place as her long hair blew in the wind. Two cruel black daggers adorned her hands. Another woman with dark hair rushed to tend to the writhing elf. The demon raised his swordstaff as Leliana raised her daggers. Blazt was eager to add a demigoddess to his list of lives taken.

"Your services are no longer required," The revenant said. "You will regret betraying the dragon gods. I hope you're ready for death Leliana, because it has come for you."

"I hope this hurts," The bard hissed before dashing forward.

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Somewhere, deep in the dark prison, reality shook. For the first time in an eternity, the dragon lord's claw brushed against the gate. Dumat was dangerously close to release. The universe screamed.

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_Author's Note: What can I say, I apologize that everyone who fights Blazt ends up with a beating. Hopefully, Leliana will fare better. What do you guys think? Anyway, hope you enjoyed it. Do leave your thoughts. I should update fairly soon._

_To my reviewers:_

_Trystan438: Thanks! Hopefully Morrigan and Leliana will patch things up soon enough. And yes, it is battle time, pretty much. So place your bets and call your cheers, I know who I'm rooting for ;)_

_interesting2125: Thanks! Yeah, no way Leli was getting away that easily. And of course, you are right as usual. Leli and Blazt are going to fight it out it would seem. You have a brilliant knack for guessing my moves, so who's your money on? ;)_


	44. Requiem

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: I never actually thought I'd end up writing this chapter but here it is. Be warned going into it, though you needn't worry about gore. There is a part in this chapter where I tried something and am not sure of it worked. You'll know what I'm talking about, do tell me if it isn't working. Also, I think I it's time skew our perceptions a tad bit. I hope you like the chapter, this story is inching to its conclusion. Do leave your thoughts._

_Reposted for some minor edits, no real changes._

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Chapter 44 – Requiem

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_But I survived, and I know it was only a dream._

_~H.P. Lovecraft, 'Under the Pyramids'_

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The unusual, invisible miasma leaking through the fade had thickened since its first appearance. In the depths of the fade, spirits were dumbfounded as the shadowy magic pierced the very fiber of their being. How their souls committed sins they did not know they were capable of. Even mostly unformed, wisps of semi-conscious energy were infected. And in the heart of the fade, spirits died and demons were born and the effect spread gently outward. The source was, of course, the cracking gate of the dragon gods' prison. What the dragon lord had done once to the world, he would do once more. He could feel his freedom and the world could feel his infernal fury.

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Alisa waited in front of the final fade portal they would have to cross. She swallowed and fidgeted a little, seeking comfort in Lance's arm that was wrapped around her shoulder. Dirthamen and Falon'din had apparently seen reason, though they did not seem particularly pleased. If the dread wolf was unnerved by the murderous gazes that went his way from his fellow gods then he did not show it at all. The portal in front of them flickered but Fen'harel stopped a few feet away from it.

"Behind this final portal I sealed Elgar'nan and Mithal," He growled softly. "Your quest is at an end, and your reward is to fight beneath clouds you never knew could exist. Also, it is time you were made aware of certain truths. Truths that we must face as well."

He glanced meaningfully at his fellow gods. Confusion flashed across a few faces, Falon'din showed no response and Andruil frowned slightly.

"How does it matter anymore?" She asked. "The dragon lord is now the embodiment of demise, the end of existence."

"But he was not always so," The dread wolf replied. "Perhaps we merely wished to forget. Forget how similar they all were to us."

"They were not!" Dirthamen roared. "Whatever they are, we will never be."

"It is not even so much a matter of the other six," The god of the dead said blankly. "The source of all the venom is Dumat. Perhaps, Fen'harel, you see a reflection of yourself within the lord of dragons."

"It is all seven," Fen'harel growled. "Alisa and Lance have earned this much. A nightmare of a different kind."

The warden blinked several times at the figures that swam in her vision. Majestic dragons, the likes of which she would have willingly worshipped.

"Dumat, the god of majesty and glory," The voice of the lord of nightmares cut through the hallucinations. "Razikale, goddess of magic. Lucasan, god of light. Andoral, god of freedom. Toth, god of warmth. Zazikel, god of order. Urthemiel, god of love."

And then the forms changed to resemble beings Alisa had seen in visions before, the tevinter gods. Lance stumbled at the changes, what they were and what they had become.

"How are they any different?" Lance whispered, breathing rapidly. "What's stopping the creators from doing the same damn thing?"

"I…" Alisa's voice trailed away as the visions cleared.

The dread wolf's deep, sharp eyes were locked with her. "We _are _the same thing, in many senses," He said, baring his fangs. "But you have no choice. We are the only way you will ever win. For what it matters, we have no conscious intentions to poison reality. Only purify it to what it once was."

"That can't be a bad thing," The warden murmured to Lance. "If he's telling the truth."

The blond mage nodded after a moment. A voice drifted through the fade, to reach only Fen'harel's ears. He showed no visible reaction to Dumat's voice.

_And when do you plan on telling them that paradise never included humans? Genocide is such sweet fruit, don't you agree? The trickster is a well earned title; you and I see things on a greater scale. Two puppeteers whose helpless puppets fight and die for their masters' will. The mortals will only ever be that, puppets. If you think any of us different, you are sadly mistaken._

The dread wolf said nothing and merely turned towards the portal. After a moment, he walked through it. The others followed, with Andruil holding back till Alisa and Lance crossed the portal. She followed, pleased that they hadn't changed their mind. She had no desire to force decisions on them, should it have come to that.

The warden found herself upon another barren rock with a gate embedded into the wall opposite her. She walked without any hesitation; her time in the blasted fade was nearly over. Lance followed, his hand straying close to his staff.

"Do not expect the All-Father to forgive you," Sylaise sighed. "It matters not that you imprisoned him with Mithal or freed us all first. You will not be spared."

"She is correct," Falon'din said blandly. "His wrath will be beyond control. Although, you undoubtedly deserve it."

"Open the gate," Fen'harel roared. He knew what would save him, in the end. It was a risk, but a reliable one. If he was wrong on this, then there was no point in anything he had done.

Alisa placed her hand against the gate and the cold rock crumbled before her. She stepped a good distance away, with Lance dragging her further.

Mithal emerged from the gate, tall and dressed in a shimmering white gown. Her long, white hair sparkled like diamonds and her eyes were the green of the forest. A slim sword hung at her waist, encrusted in gems. Her eyes betrayed what may have been pity when she looked at the dread wolf but she smiled at the others.

The fade shook with power as Elgar'nan strode from his prison, his rage nearly burning everything around him. His black eyes were narrowed in loathing as his red armor glinted with bloody light. He drew a blade painted red all the way down as his dark hair flapped in nonexistent wind. He raised his blade towards the dread wolf and his voice echoed. Alisa unconsciously shrank a bit.

"Fen'harel, infernal traitor!" He shouted. "I sentence you to death!"

The All-Father ignored the calming hand Mithal tried to lay on his shoulder. Fen'harel erected a shield around himself but it splintered nearly instantly as he was levitated into the air. Elgar'nan's blade rose as well, ready to skewer the lord of nightmares. The dragon lord's voice rang once more in the dread wolf's ears.

_Admit it, you hated paradise's champion as much as I did. Even if she did fight me. After all, the girl was mortal, with the power to defy gods. And you are so sure of what I am going to do now, aren't you? Well, congratulations on an accurate if simple guess. I will face you so very soon. And then we will see wins. And, obviously, the winner is good while the loser is evil. Two sides of the same infernal coin._

Elgar'nan's blade was stayed as a horrendously disturbing laugh rang out across the fade. A laugh he recognized.

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Leliana struck five times in rapid succession. She was somewhat surprised that the demon blocked every blow, albeit barely. Blazt gathered himself and dashed across the field, swinging his swordstaff which burnt with an odd black flame. The bard slipped aside as the weapon barely glanced against her black armor. What surprised her was that the armor chipped. She parried another blow and struck her dagger into the revenant's body.

Blazt showed no signs of pain and reached for magic as Leliana kicked him hard in the chest knocking him to the ground. The bard jumped gracefully to avoid a slash aimed at her legs and caught the demon's head with a sweeping kick. She lashed out with a dagger towards his head but he rolled out of the way and staggered to his feet.

She was conscious of the battle raging around her. Morrigan was trying to save Mithra's life and Flemeth's dragon form was rampaging among the demon horde. But her cold gaze was fixed on a single target, the wretched creature in front of her. He had to die.

Blazt unleashed an enormous inferno of fire and Leliana laughed coldly as she walked through it. The flames slipped off her skin, repelled by Zazikel's magic. She waved a single hand as the flames dissipated in a burst of chaotic energy. A tornado of flame rose around the revenant, forged of Toth's fire. It closed in on him and exploded.

The orlesian took a step back as Blazt got to his feet again. The demon levitated a boulder and tossed it and stunning speed. Leliana caught the projectile with magic and tossed it aside. Voids tore open around the revenant as Andoral's chains snaked around his arms and legs, binding him in place. Unable to help himself, the demon screamed as the bard sauntered over to him.

She gently dug her daggers into his body repeatedly, determined to force upon him the pain she had seen him inflict on Mithra. With a ferocious roar, Blazt broke the chains with an intense tug. Leliana yelped in surprise as a spirit blast hit her hard enough to knock her several feet back. Her gaze narrowed and her stance grew more careful. It seemed the demon could break Andoral's chains and penetrate Zazikel's gift.

"Foolish girl," The revenant hissed. "I am not like the other you have faced. You cannot tear me apart with a wisp of thought."

Leliana jumped to melee range again as their weapons clashed, spraying sparks into the air. The bard forced Blazt several steps back before dropping into a quick crouch and sweeping a kick across the revenant's knees. As he fell, he fell on the Orlesian's daggers. Leliana withdrew her daggers and went for another killing blow which the demon evaded.

"You think you're a good person?" He laughed, spinning his swordstaff. "There is no good, no evil. Everyone is the same."

"Shut up!" The bard screamed as she let loose a blast of magic that tore the ground apart. The revenant barely dodged it.

"The truth hurts it seems," He chuckled. "You mortals commit the same atrocities as those you condemn. I suppose it is acceptable for you to inflict torture upon me because you think you're a fairy tale heroine?"

"You deserve justice!" Leliana snapped as she evaded a wave of cold and unleashed a lightning bolt which coursed through the revenant's body, causing him to stagger.

"There is no such thing as justice," Blazt said calmly. "Whoever wins is just, holy and right. You have fallen victim to the poison in your soul, the poison that inflicts every mortal being."

The bard snapped and sprung forward as her daggers clashed against his swordstaff. He fell on his knees, barely holding on. She noticed a knight fighting nearby, she recognized him as one of the people she had met in Redcliffe. His name had been Ser Perth. And she sensed something wrong.

"Do it you fool!" The revenant roared. "Protect me!"

Time seemed to slow down for her; she took in every detail around her. Morrigan was occupied fighting several demons that had closed in. Blazt was on his knees, helpless, waiting to be killed. And from behind her, Ser Perth rushed towards her, greatsword raised. And that was when she saw the truth; he was nothing more than a possessed corpse. She spun around, blood boiling over in rage.

_Everybody loves you._

She raised her dagger to block the sweeping sword.

_You love everyone too, that's why you killed them._

The greatsword fell on her dagger; her hand didn't give way at all.

_My messiah, your soul is poisoned._

She swung her other dagger to behead the possessed corpse. She knew the demon would not have the time to react.

_Paradise lost. Never to be regained._

The dagger connected with Ser Perth's neck.

_The dragon lord will destroy everything. All your fault. YOUR DAMN FAULT._

The dagger punctured his neck.

_There is no white, only shades of black. The fairy tales are lies._

She let magic surge into her dagger.

_You loved Morrigan, so you're going to kill her too._

The magic tore through the demons possessing Ser Perth's corpse.

_You will bow before fate. After all, you're destiny's bitch._

The demon was utterly obliterated and the burning husk of the knight's body fell to the ground.

_You've made mistakes you know. Worst part is, you know exactly what you did wrong._

Leliana relaxed the slightest bit, drawing her daggers back.

_For example, never turn your back on the truly dangerous foe. Oh, how rage and vengeance blind you._

The bard felt a surge of white hot pain and then a strange sense of numbness.

_Even if the dragon lord wins, you will find your requiem in fighting to whatever end._

She looked down and saw Blazt's swordstaff protruding from her chest. It had torn through her armor and pierced through her heart. She thought she heard the demon laugh, she thought she heard Morrigan scream, she thought she heard the dragon lord laugh. But the numbness seemed to be shutting it all out. She looked at the weapon that had run her through. Her magic and all her gifts were useless. She knew, without a shade of doubt, that the wound was fatal.

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_Author's Note: Anyway, I hope the chapter made for a nice read. Do leave your feedback. I'll update as soon as I possibly can._

_To my reviewers:_

_interesting2125: Thanks! I tried a slightly different take on the divine twins. And all the elven gods are finally free. I'd be interested to know, did you expect this conclusion for Leli and Blazt's fight? I'm not done with our evil revenant yet. He will probably get something a bit grander._

_Nightwish11606: Thanks! Well, I don't much like torturing elves :P It's more to get a point across about Blazt, I suppose. And he did get some ass kicking even if he did um... you-know-what Leli. Hope you like what's coming. _


	45. Silence

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: I apologize for being a little late on this one but I'm trying to be careful with this and the next few chapters. Anyways, hope you like this one and do leave your thoughts._

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Chapter 45 – Silence

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_And I saw a beast rise up from the sea, having seven heads and ten horns. And on his horns ten crowns, and on his heads, blasphemous names._

_And they worshipped the dragon which gave power unto the beast, and they worshipped the beast saying, "Who is like unto the beast? Who is able to make war with him?"_

_~Revelations chapter 13, verses 1 and 4._

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Leliana fell to her knees as she felt the faint sensation of the weapon being jerked out of her body. She heard nothing but a dull roar and her vision blurred slowly. She felt her body begin to tumble as warm blood spurted from her ruptured heart. And then she saw a single figure clearly, as clear as though she had never been hurt.

Her double, dressed in chantry robes, looked at her and sighed. The same doppelganger she had spoken with in her own mind. Leliana tried to blink and found she had no control of her muscles any more.

"Failing after coming so far," The double shook her head. "Truly a pity."

"Am I dead?" The bard asked, she was unsure if her mouth moved but she heard the words echo in her mind.

"Considering Blazt tore through your heart, I would hazard a yes," Her doppelganger said blandly.

"Then it's over," Leliana said, with a touch of relief. "I'm dead; the dragons will never be free. And the creators will slaughter the demons. It's finally finished."

Her double smirked cruelly. "Do you take the dragon lord for a fool? Do you truly believe he would try to kill you if it meant sacrificing his freedom? The only sacrifice is you."

Her doppleganger's expression changed from haughty to furious. "Fool! You committed suicide on altar of bloody rage and vengeance. It is over but Dumat has won."

Even in her blurred vision, Leliana noticed the black on her armor evaporating. It left behind a dull grey as a sphere of shadow began to collect above her. To her horror, the mortal wound she had suffered began to clog.

"Wh-what?" She stuttered.

"You died, messiah of the end," The double sighed. "Damn shame that Leliana's still around. The gifts of gods will heal even fatal wounds for your soul is still around. The resultant exertion and the tribute of your anger and desire for revenge is all he needs."

"I made a mistake," The bard whimpered. If she could have cried she would have. "I didn't mean to shun Morrigan or give up on myself. It's just that… Dumat, he destroyed EVERYTHING! Is it wrong to want revenge; is it wrong to feel anger?"

"Yes it is," Her doppelganger said coldly. "But I wonder if you could have helped it. I suppose, in the end we all knew it would come to this."

"I'll set things right this time," Leliana swore. "No matter the cost."

"Be careful of your words dear," The double said with calculating eyes. "There are some costs no one is able to pay."

The bard felt her wound begin to heal further; she felt a heart beat where there should have been none. And she saw the sphere of shadow burst and fall upon the battlefield like a deadly cloud. And then she felt incredible power step into the world but not that of Dumat.

"The creators," She whispered in relief. "We have a chance, yes?"

She had expected a partially encouraging statement from her doppelganger or at worst, a cold insult. What she got was a look of desolation on the figure's face, a look of such sadness that it brought tears to her own eyes.

"You know not what you face," The double whispered so softly that Leliana almost didn't hear. "The dragon lord is far too strong."

"You're not my subconscious, are you?" The bard asked, slightly delirious with the surge of life that was passing through her body.

"Does it matter?" The doppelganger said, a smirk returning to its face. "Tell me, are you willing to pay any price to stop Dumat?"

"Anything," Leliana said reflexively.

"There is the smallest chance that you may get the opportunity," Her double said with finality. "If the time comes, sacrifice everything. Then you can fight on partially even ground with the god of silence. Brace yourself, everything you have seen and heard has not readied you at all for what approaches. And do not forget that you have a shard of the mirror."

Leliana had smashed the Eluvian after leaving the portal and some instinct had demanded of her to keep a single shard of the mirror nestled in her armor. The thought was pushed from her mind as life returned to her corpse. The figure vanished as the bard's vision cleared. She staggered to her feet as a look of unbelieving joy spread across Morrigan's face. Blazt had retreated to the temple entrance. She turned to look upon the elven gods but at that instant the dark cloud above them imploded.

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The prison of the dragon gods exploded in cracks, but did not give way. The fade seemed to hold its breath.

"Lend me all your strength," Dumat orders calmly.

The other dragon gods dare not refuse and willingly relinquish every bit of magic they can call upon within the darkness. And then the lord of dragons plays he single card he has been saving. Some doors need not truly be broken. His essence seeps through the prison without effort. The fade blackens instantly. He has little time to waste as his form vanishes, only to reemerge upon Thedas after uncountable years.

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The armies broke apart on pure instinct. Alisa and Lance froze in their thoughts and motions as the cloud of darkness they had barely noticed imploded onto itself. All the warden had a chance to catch was Morrigan and Leliana close to each other some distance away. And then she saw it.

The nothingness upon which the cloud had imploded began to grow. It slowly took the shape of a massive dragon with glowing white eyes. To her horror, Alisa saw several human soldiers stab themselves in the throat. She even saw one of them shove a blade down his throat. And then she had an almost uncontrollable urge to set herself on fire. The dragon lord's head arched to its full height. A flurry of motion next to her revealed Ghilan'nain holding Lance tightly as her friend flailed for his staff, eyes glazed over. And then, the god of silence sang. The armies, demons and humans alike screamed in agony at the voice. It tore at their souls and seared thoughts of suicide into their minds.

"The old gods will call to you, from their ancient prisons they will sing. Wicked dragons with wicked hearts, on blackened wings does deceit take flight. The first of my children, lost to night," Dumat chanted, tones soft and yet loud enough to tear the universe apart. The dragon lord's gaze turned and the warden turned to find Leliana on the receiving end. "So easy to manipulate, so easy to control. In case you haven't noticed, I have won."

"Stop him," Alisa managed to scream at the creators as more soldiers committed suicide to escape the sounds and the dragon's presence.

Elgar'nan reluctantly raised a hand, the others following suit. "Kill the voice of silence. It will be a start," The All-Father murmured.

A subtle vibration spread across a deeper plane and Dumat's horrendous presence seemed to shrink a slight bit. And then the magical plane exploded and Alisa grabbed her head and openly cried, far too hurt by the sensations. And the elven gods were knocked away like dolls.

The dragon lord laughed, a soldier clawed his own eyes out. "Elgar'nan, always a pleasure. Although, you will have to try harder."

And then the ground blackened and the charring spread across the entire field. The sky was covered in broiling black storm clouds. And the god of silence spoke once more.

"The mortals have forgotten," He said. One of the desire demons tore her own innards out at the sound, screeching all the while. "Perhaps another form this time, it will make things more interesting."

And then the enormous dragon shrank to the form of a tall, tanned man in a black robe. But the eyes never changed and the terrible aura refused to leave. With a smirk, Dumat raised a hand and a miniscule sphere of blue light appeared. Alisa would never have seen it had she not sensed its power. Fen'harel roared but the tiny ball had already struck the middle ground between the two armies. When the explosion of light faded, the warden's mouth fell. She and Lance had to support each other as they noticed that most of both armies were gone. The only remaining signs were faint drifts of ash in the air.

"Now things won't be quite as messy," The dragon lord laughed. "I believe I will begin by destroying you who call yourselves gods."

"Enough!" The dread wolf's scream tore across the plain. The demons cowered but the humans and elves found themselves cheering on pure instinct. Fen'harel dashed across the plain nearly instantly, aiming to strike the god of silence with enough force to turn mountains to dust.

He never made it. He hit an invisible barrier that Dumat had erected around himself. Every bone in the wolf's body shattered instantly and his body fell limply to the floor as it began to mend itself.

"Really?" The dragon said with mock disappointment. "That was pathetically crude. Begone dog."

He waved a hand casually as an enormous fireball engulfed Fen'harel and sent the burning, shattered body flying through the air. And then a swath of unusual flames fell upon Dumat. Alisa's eyes widened as she saw Leliana as the aggressor, a determined expression on her face.

The colorless, blue tinted flames morphed to form a spear in the dragon lord's hand. He looked at the bard with what was undoubtedly a touch of anger. He tossed the fire spear at blinding speed where it struck the dread wolf's healing body, exploding on contact. The warden noticed Andruil wincing, the other creators wore expressions bordering on fear.

"You would use the dragon gods' power against me?" Dumat roared as Leliana's body levitated into the air. "I made you what you are. And now you are entirely worthless to me."

Two arrows, one from the goddess of the hunt and one from Falon'din struck the dragon lord's shield. He let the bard's body fall to the ground as his shield absorbed the projectiles. He turned back to the creators, seemingly ignoring Leliana.

"If you are so intent on being the first to meet your end then so be it," He said as he moved closer to the elven gods in a flash.

Alisa felt Sylaise grab her roughly and throw her away and Dirthamen tossed Lance aside in an effort to keep them as far from the dragon lord as possible. The warden choked as she looked at the dead grass on the ground, it looked offensive. She and Lance struggled to her feet and noticed Leliana and Morrigan rushing towards them. She would have shouted if a burst of light hadn't drawn her attention and caused the others to look as well.

Dumat's shield appeared to have absorbed a massive burst of magic with no ill effect to the god of silence. The haunting white eyes promised the end of the world. And that was when the wave of hopelessness washed across the entire world. Children in far away Rivain cried for no discernible reason, heads drooped and though none of them knew it, their minds whispered the word apocalypse. The dragon lord raised his hands and three swords of pure shadow emerged from thin air.

"If nothing else, the battle should be fair," He said, his voice quickly losing all emotion. He turned to one of the hulking pride demons. "I christen you Strength."

One of the horrid blades drove itself into the demon's heart up to the hilt. Lightning tore through the beast's body and it screamed in agony. And then the sword vanished as the demons grew disproportionately large, skin turning diamond hard as disgusting muscles flexed on its arms. With a great roar it grabbed one of the gigantic black trees and snapped it in half with its bare hands. Apparently satisfied, Dumat turned away.

"I christen you Magic," He stated as the second sword embedded itself in an arcane horror.

After a blaze of energy and a cry of pain, the demon rose high into the air with elemental and spirit energy blazing uncontrolled around its form. The world seemed to shake with the excess of energy. Parts of the demon's wrinkled skin snapped and leaked mana as though the beast was overflowing. The god of silence turned away again.

"And let it not be said that I do not reward service," He spoke with a hint of malice. "Blazt, you will have all the power you seek."

The third black sword rose high into the sky and drove itself into the revenant's head as he screamed in joyous, rapturous agony.

"YES!" Blazt screamed as unusual miasmas of energy played across his body.

The warden noticed Elgar'nan's expression snap as the All-Father let loose a spell to kill every demon he could see. Every last drop of energy was drawn to the dragon lord's shield and consumed. The revenant slowly got to his feet and looked to Leliana.

"Things should be a lot fairer this time," He hissed as he dashed across the field.

Alisa couldn't move nearly fast enough and could only gasp as the demon's swordstaff struck the Orlesian's dagger. Morrigan gasped audibly as Leliana was knocked several feet away. The warden drew her staff before the bard's voice cut across the field.

"Get away!" She screamed in urgency as she danced around Blazt's blade. Alisa hesitated until the orlesian screamed again. "Go! You'll be dead in less than a second if you try to fight him."

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Fen'harel's body healed enough to see his brethren assaulting the dragon lord with storms of magic that faded into the invisible barrier. And then the dread wolf saw it.

"Stop!" He roared as the creators hesitated. "He's going to-"

He never finished his words. The shield around Dumat dissolved to form a discus in his hand that gently turned black. The god of silence laughed in amusement.

"You really did exert a great deal of strength," He smirked as he tossed the discus. "Catch."

It felt as though the universe exploded.

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_Author's Note: Now that I'm mostly done setting things up, the fun can begin. I hope Dumat lives up to the amount of hype I've generated around him. Hope you liked it. Do leave your feedback. Update should come soon._

_To my reviewers:_

_Trystan438: Thanks! Glad you like the battle with Leli and Blazt. Hopefully round two will turn out even better. The All-Father will probably be a bit more decent this time since Dumat actually intends to destroy the universe this time. Battle from the next chapter (probably)! Hope you like it._

_Nightwish11606: Thanks! Leli's 'death' was something that sort of had to happen for a number of reasons. The All-Father will hopefully fight it out this time although I'm not so sure about winning. Anyways, hope you enjoy what is to come._

_interesting2125: Thanks for the review! You're actually completely right about the A/N. It was a spur of the moment thing that I didn't think about enough, thanks for pointing it out! Yeah, I was talking about the alternating 'voices', I'm glad it sort of worked. I'm actually just waiting to begin the Andraste story, as soon as I finish up with this. This one ended up a bit longer than expected but that should begin really soon._


	46. In Victory, Defeat

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: And another step closer to the end. Still a bit to go yet, still a bit to go. Allow me to warn you for some unpleasant parts in the chapter but you probably know what I mean. Hope you enjoy it and leave your thoughts._

_Edit: Re-uploaded for a relatively important change towards the end. I apologize for the error, I hadn't noticed that a small bit was missing._

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Chapter 46 – In Victory, Defeat

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_Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it._

_~Terry Pratchett _

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The world breaking explosion disabled the elven gods with ruthless efficiency. Its horrifying magnitude was contained for them alone and their bodies fell, broken, to the ground. They began to mend immediately for the body of a god is naught but a construct of their will. But the dragon lord had achieved what mattered most to him at that moment, time. With the creators in no fit position to stop him for the next set of seconds, he could finish what he had so desperately needed to do.

He took a fraction of a second to bathe in the broiling storm clouds above, the blackened ground below and the smell of death and ash in the air. In this very hell could he tap mortals' full potential. Paradise was soft, it stifled talent and strength. It left the world full of pathetic children whose every whim was fulfilled. He found no enjoyment or strength from their prayers. He truly fed when the strong were slammed on their knees and they prayed to him with unwilling blood, a lesson in brutal humility. Tears of burning, horrid crimson.

And then he vanished for several moments. If Fen'Harel's body was in any shape to react he may have howled in indignant fury. Dumat had got what precious seconds he needed, precious seconds where the creators could not hound him as he melted through the Fade. He returned moments later and even the dread wolf almost abandoned hope when he understood what had transpired. He had seen the truth of the dragon lord's intentions in the recent past; he had seen the one thing his enemy lacked. The capacity to truly create, the one obstacle in his path to destroying the universe.

And in his unholy hand rested a perfect, white sphere. The spark of creation whirred madly and seemed to mewl and whimper as if it comprehended whose hand it lay in. And then Dumat's hand closed upon the sphere and began to squeeze it to nothingness. His hand ruptured and the spark of creation drained into his body. The dragon lord smiled at the momentary look of horror on Leliana's face but the poor girl was too busy fighting Blazt. A few painful moments later, his hand was empty.

A single surge of white lightning washed over his body as he seized the one power that he had deserved to have all along. The Maker's greatest creation and now he may as well have been the Maker himself. Dumat glanced down at his scarred hand and his white eyes flashed as he looked back up to the creators who were struggling to rise.

"If I were cut, then why not bleed?" He whispered softly as he closed his hand into a tight fist. Shadowy wisps of dark blood leaked from between his fingers and fell upon the ground. Thedas itself seemed to cry at the contact. The dragon lord laughed at the terror etched upon the face of the elven gods.

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With each deafening clang of Blazt's swordstaff upon her daggers, Leliana found herself pushed away. The revenant's raw strength had grown more than she had anticipated. She dove aside from a blow and attempted to ram a dagger into his neck, only to have it easily dodged. She made no secret of the fact that she was trying to get closer to the dragon lord. Dumat had the spark of creation and from what she had seen, he had already consumed it.

"It's over," Blazt said coldly. "Just lie down and die."

A colorless fireball flew from her palm only to meet a bright red one from the demon. The detonated in mid air and the bard leapt through the smoke, leveling a dagger strike at the revenant's gut. He barely evaded it but the blunt end of his weapon spun around to strike the Orlesian in the side of the head. As she reeled, somewhat dazed, the blade pierced her thigh and she yelped as Blazt smashed his fist into her face.

Leliana let loose a titanic blast of magic on pure instinct, forcing the demon back. Her wounds healed rapidly of their own accord, leaving behind a dull ache. And again the demon was upon her and she barely met his strikes and spells. The bard aimed a burst of cold at his feet but Blazt broke through the ice without apparent effort.

"You must know how many people have tried to stop me," He laughed. "And I killed them all, broke them first of course. I will give you one thing, you mortals certainly can shriek."

Leliana fought as technically as she could even if her feelings demanded her to strike him with her growing anger. She tried to not notice Mithra's somewhat limp form, the elf was alive but at the very least she would be blind for life. Blazt had torn her eyes out with his blade and the bard felt a growing urge to make him pay.

_It isn't about vengeance or pain. It's about winning._

And she knew that well enough as she ducked his blade. Her instinct from earlier possessed her for a moment as she spun her leg to trip the demon. As he fell she made three precise cuts with her dagger and her fireball struck her foe's face dead on. She executed the perfect somersault backwards and ordinarily she would have thrown a dagger to the neck at that point. In her particular circumstance, she decided to improvise by electrocuting the revenant with a grand surge of thunder.

She relaxed for an instant and tensed almost immediately after. Blazt stood back up, the gashes and cracks in his armor mending rapidly. He picked up his swordstaff from the ground and twirled it once before rushing towards her.

"Not bad," He commented while he rained blow after blow. "But I'm afraid we've had enough fun."

Leliana noticed that her face had been exposed for a second. She also noticed that the demon's weapon was held in one hand. She should have seen the fist coming, she probably did. But what she didn't expect was to be hit hard enough to knock through the air. She tasted blood as she felt Blazt's armored boot slam into her breastplate. She gasped for breath and rolled aside on instinct to avoid his falling blade. And then she was surrounded in flames, agony seared through her body as the flames gently penetrated her hastily erected shield. She knew her face would be burnt off in a moment. It wasn't about what path she walked as long as she stayed true to herself. She mused for a moment if she even knew what that meant.

And then the flames bent to her will, separating out from her and surging high into the sky. They lost their orange color and turned bright blue. Different even from Toth's fire. This was _her _flame. It took the form of a massive winged bird above her head as Blazt took a shaky step back, a dense shield rising around his body. Leliana thought, for a moment, that the bird of flame resembled some guise of Morrigan's that she had seen. She had little more time to consider it as the enormous fire construct washed over the revenant's shield.

The barrier melted away in a second and there was a single inhuman scream as the fire bird exploded. The bard noted, with relief, that there was nothing left when the smoke cleared. Only the faint traces of Blazt's shattered spirit.

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"Submit," Dumat said calmly to the creators. The voice was laced with power as wisps of shadow dripped from his hand. Arcs of white lightning occasionally cut across his form as he assimilated the spark.

"No," Fen'harel growled in response.

"Perhaps once I would have," Elgarn'an said in a tired voice as he drew his red sword. "But this time you intend to destroy everything. We die either way, and killing you is the only way to avoid it."

"Kill me?" The dragon lord said as he arched an eyebrow. His white eyes seemed to grow brighter. "You think I can be killed? I will give you one more opportunity, bow before me or cease to exist sooner rather than later."

Andruil was the one to respond, she responded with an arrow that thrummed with energy. Despite the projectile's immense speed the god of silence plucked it out of the air and twirled it between his fingers. He shook his head in mock grief.

"You filth have truly begun to irk me now," He smiled. "Last time I fought with a certain degree of dignity and honor but now you've forced my hand. I'm afraid I'm going to have to brutalize you this time."

And with that he was gone, vanished into thin air. He appeared among them with speed that made gods flinch. A moment later, the goddess of the hunt found her own arrow shoved down her throat before she could react. Dumat evaded the dread wolf's lunge before ripping his body cleanly in two. He unleashed a storm of black lances from his palm which impaled themselves across Mithal's body. He disappeared again to dodge incoming magic.

He ripped Dirthamen's axe from his hands and dug into the god's chest. An arrow from Falon'din struck his chest and snapped like a twig as the dragon lord tore the bronze wings from the god's back and snapped his neck. From the clouds above, a black sword fell and embedded itself in June's skull. He tossed what looked to be a pair of pebbles at Ghilan'nain and Sylaise. The pebbles sank into their bodies and they looked confused for a second before the objects detonated inside them.

Dumat turned just in time to catch Elgar'nan's sword in his hands. The two stood unmoving for a significant amount of time, neither overpowering the other. And then the god of silence sighed and his eyes seemed to burn. With an echoing noise, the blood red blade shattered and its pieces clattered on the ground. The All-Father looked shocked for a moment as threads of darkness slithered from the dragon lord's palm and cocooned him. The cocoon unwrapped an instant later and what was left of Elgar'nan's body fell to the earth.

Dumat teleported a distance away and watched with amusement as the shredded bodies began to piece themselves together. But he saw, that deep beneath; he had wounded the essence of the gods. He could probably put them through this magnificent pain several dozen times before actually finishing them off.

"Last chance," He said, still calm. "Bow or I will make your deaths slow. Who said you shouldn't be afraid of the dark?"

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Alisa hadn't the time to share a joyful reunion with her companions. She hadn't the time to celebrate the fact that Leliana seemed to be back on their side. That time would have to be earned. She felt the familiar rush that she had so often felt when fighting the blight. She knew exactly what to do, emotions could wait. What was left of their army seemed to be performing adequately against the demons. Her eyes were fixated on the two demons Dumat had empowered.

"Morrigan, Lance, Wynne with me!" She shouted. The warden was fully aware of the risk she was taking, risking a bet on the way the dragon lord had worked. "Alistair, Oghren, Sten, Zevran take that arcane horror!"

Alisa did take a moment to reflect that they seemed to instinctively trust in her orders. She prayed they weren't wrong. She raised a boulder and hurled it at the hideously large pride demon. Strength, as he had been christened, let the boulder strike him and simply roared. The warden grimaced as the rock shattered. She let loose a bolt of electricity as she moved back. The charging demon was struck and roared in pain. Alisa grinned, she had been right.

"Hit it with magic and nothing else," She said calmly. "And stay away from it."

Morrigan tried to freeze it, the warden electrocuted it and Lance let loose a fireball. Wynne protected them from the rock Strength had hurled at them. The demon roared in pain and rushed towards them. The four of them scattered, only to be knocked further away by the impact of the beast's fist. Strength instantly lunged for the witch who was closest. She could do nothing but roll and jump while Alisa, Lance and Wynne tried to bring it down.

The beast took a massive backswing, knocking them all to the ground. Morrigan had shapeshifted into a bird and rose up before turning back to human form in mid air. Alisa's eyes widened as the witch landed on the demon's face. As it roared she let loose as much electricity as she could down the monster's throat. Five painful seconds later, during which Morrigan was slipping off, Strength finally collapsed on the ground. The witch landed in a heap next to it but there was a small smile on her face.

"That was…" Lance's voice trailed away as Alisa sighed with relief.

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Alistair gritted his teeth as the waves of lightning rolled over his body. Magic flew unrestrained from the arcane horror as Lyrium and Mana leaked from ruptures on his wrinkled skin. Sten swung his Asala in a wide arc only to be knocked away by a spirit blast. Oghren jumped aside to barely avoid a fireball. Zevran jumped, dagger aimed at Magic's neck but was knocked aside by a boulder.

Alistair immediately focused all his templar talents on hampering the demon's spells but found them woefully insufficient. The beast's strength dwarfed his own as it raised a somewhat triumphant hand. A dagger from Zevran nicked one of the monster's skin ruptures. It screamed in agony and the templar took a step back.

"So that is what magebane does to exposed mana," The assassin mused. "Interesting."

Alistair stumbled forward and stuck his sword through the crumpling demon's chest. That had almost been too easy. He turned to see Alisa raising her staff with a look of triumph on her face. He looked around and found Leliana standing over a smoldering crater and turning towards them.

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Alisa saw victory everywhere, except where it truly mattered. The elven gods' battered bodies were still healing and then a single sweep of white light covered Dumat. The wound on his hand healed. She heard Leliana cry out. And then a wave of pure force erupted. She fell to her knees, clutching her head in pain. She could barely make out that her companions were in similar states. The dragon lord's hand was raised, a bland expression on his face.

"Enough," The voice echoed from everywhere. "I created those beasts to send a message. And yet you continue to fight like fools. Even insolence has limits."

And then a horrid presence engulfed everything even though Dumat hadn't moved. She felt like shadows were trailing cold fingers across her bodies. The dragon lord spoke again but this time it was a thundering roar from nowhere. It deafened her and her heart skipped beats.

"I AM DUMAT, THE GREATEST BEING THE MAKER EVER FORGED. I AM A GOD AMONG GODS. AND YOU. WILL. SUBMIT."

And Alisa found she couldn't move, she could only stare with completed helplessness.

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As soon as the roar subsided Leliana found herself dragged through the air towards Dumat. She struggled to her feet before a hand grasped her face. She screamed. He was _touching _her. The cold spread everywhere, a painful sense of violation.

She couldn't bring herself to do a thing as he raised her up. She whimpered as she looked into his white eyes. His hand was still holding her by the throat, he was touching her. She let loose a miserable, pathetic sob on pure instinct. The merciless eyes continue to bore into her own.

"My messiah," He said finally. She shivered at the voice. "You are a fool. Did you actually think you would kill me?"

"Yes," She said with surprising confidence. His grip tightened. She shrieked.

"You speak as though you held the infinite blade itself in your hands," He replied coldly. "You will never succeed."

"The… infinite blade?" The bard croaked.

"Old battles, old wounds," Was the only reply. "This was never about light and dark or right and wrong, my messiah. It was about power and intelligence, which I possess beyond all living things."

Leliana thrashed her legs in a futile manner and tried to turn her head, seeking Morrigan's eyes. Dumat's grip loosened as her head swiveled a bit. All she found was the witch lying on the ground, paralyzed like everyone it.

"She can't help you," The dragon lord whispered. "I see everything in your mind. You enjoy taking comfort in tales and legends, do you not? Fairy tales do not exist."

He twisted her head to face him once again. The bard was openly sobbing and couldn't help it. Dumat's touch was too much to bear.

"What is that story you love?" His voice dropped to a dangerous hiss. "Alindra and her soldier? That when she has cried enough, they will be united for eternity? There's a single glaring issue I have with it. Even if they were united, they'd both be FUCKING DEAD."

Tears slipped from Leliana's eyes as the dragon lord's voice hammered in her skull and echoed in her ears. She didn't even realize that the god of silence had used words that were rare to hear from his mouth.

"In the end you are but mortals. And I, I am a god among gods. Do you know what the deepest shadow and the brightest light have in common?" Dumat asked, drawing her face closer to his. "I can see that you know the answer. Say it."

And she did, she couldn't refuse his demands. Her soul was tearing at his touch and voice.

"They… b-both leave you sightless," She whimpered.

"Precisely," The dragon lord said with triumph. "It's all the same. Do you understand?"

The bard kept her silence.

"Do. You. Understand?"

"Yes," She cried, tears flowing freely. "Yes."

Dumat closed his eyes with satisfaction. "The Maker took his messiah as his bride you know."

"NO! Please, no," Leliana screamed, unable to break his grip.

And then a crimson blade tore through the dragon lord's head. His grasp let loose and the bard collapsed to the ground before running. The blade slid out and returned to Elgar'nan's outstretched hand. The god of silence healed his wound almost instantly. He eyed the creators with contempt.

"I crushed you in a matter of seconds," He smiled. "This is really quite pointless."

"He's right," Fen'harel whispered. "We need a solution."

Something seized Leliana in that moment and she pulled the piece of the Eluvian from her armor and turned to the dread wolf somewhat expectantly. He locked eyes with her and they both understood in that moment. Fen'harel relayed it to the other elven gods telepathically. Dumat seemed oddly content to stand back and watch.

"It's a ridiculous gamble," Andruil snapped. "But there is no other way. We will be committing an obscene crime if we go through with this."

"I'll sacrifice anything to kill him," Leliana said flatly, wiping the few tear stains away.

"Apparently you will," The dread wolf roared as he snatched the mirror shard and tossed it into the air.

The creators cast a collective spell as the Eluvian shard expanded to a portal. Elgar'nan turned to the bard.

"We have to get the others through," The Orlesian said.

"Three," Mithal replied plainly. "We can do no more."

Before Leliana had a chance to protest, Andruil, Fen'harel and Falon'din rushed towards the fallen bodies. There was a wave of energy as the dragon lord's paralysis spell collapsed. Dumat's laugh echoed through the air.

"I'll play your little game," He smirked. "If only to prove my utter superiority. But I want your friends to feel pain."

The bard moved but Elgar'nan tugged her through the portal, Falon'din moved through soon after, carrying Morrigan. Andruil dragged Lance through the portal. As the dread wolf was forcing Alisa to the gateway, the dragon lord acted.

Flemeth floated in the air in her dragon form. A lance of black light fell from the sky, impaling her to the ground. A horrible wailing filled the air as the dragon lord ripped the souls of the shapeshifter and her symbiotic demon from the body. The body decayed to dust as the souls exploded in a flash of black. Dumat smirked.

"That is your reward for services rendered," He said softly.

Alistair ran for the portal as dozens of black swords materialized around him. His eyes opened in horror for a single moment as the blades converged, ripping through his body. He screamed in agony as he fell, each and every sword had struck a non lethal location. He knew he would bleed to death slowly.

"Zevran Arainai, you will carve out your own heart," Dumat said plainly.

And the assassin did. His dagger tore through his own chest as he pulled out his heart with his bare hands as he died. The organ fell at the dragon lord's feet and burnt to ash. The god of silence waved a hand casually.

Oghren shrieked as every pain receptor in his body was triggered simultaneously. The flask of alcohol on his belt exploded in black flames as he slowly burnt, feeling as much pain as his body allowed. Dumat simply waved his hand again. The spirit that kept Wynne alive was made a demon in a second. And as the old mage knew the horror of becoming an abomination, her entire body exploded.

"Sten of the Beresaad, you will break your Asala," The dragon lord continued calmly.

A slab of white energy appeared in front of the Qunari. Sten blankly raised the blade that was akin to his soul and smashed it to pieces.

"And now you will kiss the ground at my feet."

The Qunari walked forward like a puppet and layed his head near Dumat's feet, kissing the charred ground.

"Pathetic creature, I have taken from you all that mattered," The dragon lord smiled. He brought his foot down on Sten's head. The pieces of his skull and brain made good distance. "And now for the rest of this world."

Alisa tried to resist being pulled through the closing Eluvian portal.

"WHAT ARE WE DOING?" She screamed in horror as Fen'harel pulled her through. He replied to her as the gateway closed.

"Letting him win."

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_Author's Note: What can I say? Tune in next time for the next step on our journey. Hope you enjoyed it. Do leave your thoughts. I'll update as soon as I can, I don't want to leave you guys hanging for too long. _

_To my reviewers:_

_Nightwish11606: Thanks! The real big battle is still a little while away, this was a bit of a false climax. I agree, the creators are really cool. I have no comment on how far you can take the revelations analogy because that would ruin everything :P Hope you like where this finally ends up!_

_interesting2125: Thanks! I took the 'sacrifice anything' pretty far actually and there's probably a bit more to go. I did want to try and convey a feeling of how out of their league normal people are compared to the power of gods. Glad you liked the battle scene._

_Trystan438: Thanks! Glad you liked the battle scene. There's a better (I sincerely hope so) one coming. Hope you like where I finally end up going. _


	47. The End of All Things

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: And onward we venture. Oh, please do read the Author's Note at the end, I want you guys' opinion on some stuff. This chapter has a slight change in narrative style. Its a one time thing for a bunch of reasons. This chapter carries a warning with it, although the title may have given that away. It's not as gory as some other stuff I've written but it is unpleasant. Anyway, hope you like it. Do leave your thoughts._

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Chapter 47 – The End of All Things

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_Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win._

_~Stephen King_

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Perhaps everyone knew it would come to this by the end. In their hearts, mortals possess a surprisingly ridiculous sense of optimism. To believe that the dragon lord could honestly be defeated. And this transgression, even after they comprehended that his power was beyond that of any god. Now Thedas was his to do with as he pleased. And he had the spark of creation within him, bonded to his very soul. The conclusion should have been obvious. And yet, they prayed.

A single echo of magic stained the face of the world. Portals were ripped open throughout the land. The dragon lord released hordes. And yet, this was merely his idea of teasing Thedas before he ended things forever. A new world waited.

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_Orlais,_

The empress' palace in Orlais was a grand affair. It put the greatest of Ferelden's castles to complete shame. For Val Royeaux was the heart of decadence but also the heart of beauty and richness. On another day, you would have found the nobles and upper class, strolling down the wide streets and admiring the variety of shops. The soft sounds of the chant of light would have carried from the grand cathedral where the divine herself resided.

On this day, the wide streets of Val Royeaux were stained in the blood of its citizens. Buildings burnt and fell as the shops and all their valuables turned to worthless ash. The gentle symphony of the chant of light was replaced with the jarring cacophony of screams. The glistening palace glistened, but with blood and not gold.

The guard or the templars could do nothing. That is not to say they did not fight with stunning fervor. Each man cut down a dozen demons and fought to the brink of death and beyond. But scarcely is it possible to fight the infinite. The divine prayed in the grand cathedral. She prayed as the demons ripped her limbs off. And she uttered the last syllables of her prayer as they strung her upside down from Andraste's statue. Singed, burning wisps of paper bearing the chant of light swept through the city on ashen winds.

The palace of the empress was devastated; broken bodies littered the hallways as the rampaging army tore into Celene's quarters. To her credit, she got two with a crossbow and one with a sword despite having no real military training. And then she found her arms caught as a grinning desire demon approached her slowly, hips swaying. The horrors that followed are for her alone. Let it be said that it was enough for her to give up on life. Her body hung from the palace's highest tower like a horrid flag.

The jewel of Orlais had suffered a significant redecoration. This time, the demons did not bother with prisoners or slaves. Every human, elf or dwarf died as slowly as could be arranged. Their corpses would be food for the hungry beasts. And then enough blood had been spilt. The skies darkened and the plants died. The time of this nation had come; its clock had ticked to death. And this, this was only the beginning.

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_Antiva,_

The Antivan crows were famed assassins and deadly warriors. And now, most of them were in a demon's belly. The less fortunate were strung across the nation's cities. The once blue rivers ran red. The famed wine burnt in haunting flames that cast terrifying shadows across the carnage. The skies blackened, the land died. And another part of the world sang its death.

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_Nevarra,_

Nevarra was one of the hearts of artistry, culture and beauty in all Thedas. Perhaps the lovely sculptures in even the smallest town put Orlais to shame. Their circle of magi was very likely one of the most magnificent places in the world. And how could one forget the Necropolis outside Nevarra City, where they entombed their dead.

Think, then, of the plight of the Nevarrans when their buried dead rose as hungering corpses to consume their nation alongside the demon hordes. The statues broke or were painted in a rather distinctive red. The circle fought and faced annihilation nonetheless. If anyone had survived, they may have sworn that they saw an immense black sword pierce the Necropolis from the sky, turning it to dust. But there were no survivors, another nation slipped violently from life to death. It is at times like this where we simply concede that it was Thedas' destiny to burn like this. It is easier that way, rather than to acknowledge the twisted path that brought this about.

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_Rivain,_

The famed pirate Isabela had returned to her original home. It was fitting perhaps, that she met her eventual fate there. She should have been hailed as one of the greatest warriors in Thedas' twilight. She fought until her body had no energy left, and she fought further. She would have killed a hundred herself, weapons ripping through the endless army. She watched her crew torn apart before her very eyes. She watched her ship burn in towering flames. She watched the buildings and taverns of the port explode in fantastic colors. And yet she fought on.

She lost a blade and then she lost an arm. Still she refused to give her foes the satisfaction of her screams. So she fought with a single hand until her sole remaining weapon was taken from her. She did not scream as her wrist was snapped, her hair burnt. They wrapped a noose around her neck and made her watch the city's destruction like a dog on a leash. And still she kicked with the last of strength. Her legs were broken and yet she wouldn't shriek.

A desire demon took her as she saw the trees come to life in twisted, black shapes. The sky clouded and the land died. The horrid clawed hand of the demoness shot forward. And finally Isabela screamed. She died soon after.

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_Weisshaupt,_

The unassailable fortress of the wardens had barely recovered from the assault Blazt had leveled at it. What was left of the wardens' initial numbers labored to rebuild the fallen bastion and restore some semblance of stability to their shattered order. And that was when the portal opened inside the ruins of the fortress. It seemed that the end of the grey wardens had finally come.

Protectors of legend, guardians of the world. They were a forgotten symbol, only left to fight the Blight. A Blight that would never return. So now they were little more than tainted people, their destiny to be pariahs of the world due to their curse. Everything they sacrificed, undone. Undone for the good of the world. The depth of certain irony never strikes those who are subject to it.

Maybe they should have relished their end here instead having to face their eventual calling. All living things die, but the noble wardens did not deserve to be butchered like animals among a dead fortress. And that was their eventual fate. A body hung from the top of Weisshaupt, another wretched flag. Needless to say, the sky was dark, the ground was burnt.

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_Par Vollen,_

The Arishok had asked questions before. He had, from time to time, mused on the meaning of death. And now that answer was rudely forced upon him as his head rolled across the ground. The Qunari fought with their legendary ferocity. But the infinite army of Dumat consumed them anyway. Perhaps the world would have seen the wretched pattern.

People fought valiantly to their death. And yet for all their heroism, they died anyway. And the more they fought, the more their end hurt. The torture mounted with their resistance. But there is something noble to fighting that which consumes everything. Yet, does that remain if there is no one left to remember you. Is it worth fighting the inevitable end of the world? But mortals have an obtuse tendency to resist the unstoppable.

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_Tevinter,_

What remained of the Tevinter imperium, home of blood mages and slavery. There was certainly much about it that was rich and beauteous. However mortals like painting with single colored brushes. But what is important about these people is that they worshipped the old gods, they would lick Dumat's feet without a second thought. They should have rejoiced when their god returned to the world. It is doubtful that they expected the demon hordes to pour down upon them and rip them to shreds. Some of them fought but most simply gave in.

The will of their god was that they submit to death and so they did. Thedas had long since crossed the point of no return. There was next to nothing left to save.

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_Ferelden,_

Denerim, the prize city of Ferelden. The nation's heart and soul, the city of the ruler. The city that had successfully weathered a demonic assault in the recent past. It may be said that things were beginning to return to normal. The market square was set up again, the pearl was back in business, the chantry held prayers once more and Anora had labored to restore some political stability. And then the end of the world arrived, much to the distress of the people.

There was no escape, the portals opened everywhere. The squalor and filth of the alienage were deplorable and yet that was now enhanced by the torrents of scarlet that ran through its streets. A hundred bodies were strung from the great tree. Shianni and Valendrian were tied up alive to its highest branches as the tree burnt. It had been a symbol of hope and optimism. And as anticipated, the dragon lord ensured that every symbol was reduced to nothing.

The market square continued to provide goods. Of course, this time the goods were the meat of the store owners and innocent citizenry. The chantry was bathed in blood, the chant burnt, priests hung from the statue of Andraste. The pearl was still doing business, albeit the more painful kind where they were paid in blissful death. And then, the time had finally come. The demons marched on the palace.

Queen Anora had long ago given up on escape or fighting. Almost every soldier was dead; the citizenry were being consumed like snacks. She didn't move as the door to her room was broken down. A demon looked down at the broken woman and grinned in cruel triumph. A hand was plunged into her chest and her beating heart torn from it. Her body was strung like another flag as her heart was eaten. The skies above Ferelden darkened and the ground finally died. It must be said now, the dragon lord had won.

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Choices are always forced upon the mortal soul. They are not gods who simply take what they wish. Payments must be made, sacrifices made. The cost of buying an archdemon's death is the life of a single grey warden. But had the Blight persisted, how they would have screamed and cried at a single, precious life. The question, of course, is whether Leliana and the elven gods stand accused of giving up on the entire world, even if there was a way out?

Letting go is an art, an art that is never taught. And so they let go of all existence, in exchange for the chance to bring it all back. Whether this is preferable to fighting a futile battle to defend the world is an opinion that would vary with every person. The light and the dark are oft the same and the grey is likely an illusion. Everyone and everything is evil from someone's point of view. But then, what does paradise mean?

The cost of an archdemon's death is the life of a grey warden. The price that must be paid to fight Dumat on even grounds is that of all creation.

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Dumat still stood in the vast open field, seeing all. When he was satisfied at what had been done to the world, he took another step forward. The demons had expected rewards for serving the new lord of the world. Being shredded by black lightning from the skies was not what they had in mind. The god of silence had no further use for his army; they were just another useless part of the world. Dumat raised his hand and the world finally experienced the peak of his power.

A million orbs that refracted light in pretty patterns spun around his form. Every world that ever could have been, every world that ever would have been. The dragon lord had transcended creation, time and space. Then one by one, the spheres broke. The death of wardens no one ever knew, the end of Blights that never happened. Times when the dragon lord was almost free, times when he wasn't. With this one grand act, he destroyed the potential of creation. There was nowhere to go from here.

And then it was as though he existed at every point in time that ever happened or ever would happen. Temporal shockwaves exploded from every instant of the timeline, destroying the nature of reality around it. When the horrific ripples traveled their course, time was no more. Dumat stood alone in a frozen world. The gate that held the dragons shattered and the other six gods escaped, existing beyond time by the dragon lords will.

And then he destroyed space. As the ground cracked and evaporated and the rivers boiled and disappeared, the god of silence took his true form. The enormous shadow consumed all existence, the fade melted away. Thedas vanished, destroyed forever. It was less than a memory now. And in a massive claw, the dragon lord held one final pinprick of light. The only thing that still remained of the old world. His talons closed and snuffed the light out forever.

The apocalypse was watched, every painful second was observed. Observed from the one place Dumat could not destroy so easily. The creators, Leliana, Morrigan, Alisa and Lance watched all they had ever cherished be destroyed. The watched from the sanctity of the Black City in heaven.

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_Author's Note: Yes, I just destroyed the entire universe. Oddly enough, the story isn't over yet. Now for the important bit, I knew this part of the story would show up eventually. It takes two very different turns at this point and I have both fleshed out (I have too much free time sometimes :P). One path is significantly longer (very very significantly) than the other. The beginning of the other one is fairly disjointed from this point in the tale. Personally, I'm partial to finishing this off with the quicker route but I wanted to know your thoughts. I know I'm being pretty vague but I didn't want to spoil things. _

_In summary: Longer and disjointed or much quicker?_

_Anyways, hope you liked it and do leave your feedback. I should update fairly soon._

_To my reviewers:_

_Nightwish11606: Thanks! Glad you liked Morri and Leli's magic. Wynne died in the same para as Oghren. Thanks for asking though since I now realize I should have split that para in two. I'll have that done in about... 2 minutes. And now, we shall finally step towards a final conclusion. Hope you like what's coming!_


	48. The Infinite Blade

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: I'm still alive. Alternatively, I'm writing this from beyond the grave. It's getting written either way and I do earnestly apologize for the rather massive gap. University was pretty busy and sometime through all that my computer decided it didn't feel like working anymore. So by the time I got that fixed and retrieved all my data and stuff, well you know how it goes sometimes. I hope the gap hasn't caused a disconnect in my writing although being careful about that was one of my prime concerns while penning this out. Especially since I lost my skeleton plot structure document, ugh. I don't need it but it was helpful, RIP. Still, hope you enjoy the chapter and do tell me what you thought of it._

_Also, a big extra special thanks to Lehni and interesting2125 for their advice about my doubt!_

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Chapter 48 – The Infinite Blade

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Oh hello, you haven't been to this garden before have you? I can always tell by your faces, that expression of shock is definitely a first timer's. This place is our treasure for what it's worth, come along and I'll give you the tour. What? Oh, the ground? That's always ashen, black dirt. Garden's always been that way, won't be changing. Adds to its uniqueness, I always say. If you look to the right, that's the biggest tree we have. It's absolutely enormous, isn't it? What's that? Oh, don't worry. It always burns in towering flames. Been burning forever, I reckon. They say it'll finally dissolve to ash when the world ends. I pity the branches and leaves on that tree though, burning every second. Follow me, there's still plenty to see here.

The sky? It's always twilight here, always. And there's always lightning, doesn't hit us though. I pity the plants it does strike, must be a hell of a painful experience. Ah, here we are. The prized flowers of the garden, black roses. Oh no, I wouldn't touch them. Those thorns are lethally poisonous, makes me wonder what those little guys keep bottled up inside. And they tend to ooze blood once in a way, strange little things. But that one's new, and it's a red rose. No thorns either, well I'll be. We actually seem to have sprung a pure flower. And there's three more.

What's that? The tree's turned to ash? The flowers are burning away? Why, you've come at the most exciting time. The end of the world's early this season, best time to visit the garden if you ask me. Name? Of course the garden has a name. It's called Destiny.

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Everything was gone. That was the only thing that struck Leliana as she gazed out the doors of the black city. The darkness was absolute and unending. It was difficult to come to terms with what she had done. In essence, she had given up the world. But she had given it up in the hopes of a final stand. She could hear Alisa screaming behind her but she paid it no mind. She needed to focus on one single thing. If Dumat died, this could all be undone. Two horrific white eyes materialized in the surrounding void and the shapes of the other dragons came clear in the darkness. They roared their triumph and flew circles around the blackened husk that had once been the Maker's domain.

"Leliana!" The warden screamed as the bard felt herself spun around forcibly. "Why did you run?"

She could see tears running down the elf's face. What disturbed her more than the anger was that she rarely saw the warden this distraught.

"Everyone's dead," Alisa sobbed. "The world's gone. What's the point of anything anymore?"

Lance put his arms around her shoulders in an attempt to comfort her but desolation was imprinted upon his face. Morrigan seemed almost dazed, not comprehending of what had unfurled. The Creators seemed unfazed by the situation but their glances turned frequently to the white eyes hovering in nothing with some fear etched into them.

"The world can be brought back as can your friends," Fen'harel growled as he pulled Alisa away from Leliana. "You, mortal, passed every trap I had set before the cages of my brethren. It disappoints me to see you collapse like the rest of your kin."

The warden looked up slowly, a dim spark of hope in nearly dead eyes. "What do you mean you can bring them back?"

"The spark of creation is bonded to the life of the god of silence now," Elgar'nan spoke flatly. "Killing him would break the spark."

"But the spark cannot be broken," Leliana mumbled as she noticed the lack of understanding on the faces of her companions.

"If it cannot be broken then how can you kill Dumat?" Morrigan muttered offhandedly, her gaze fixed upon the black floor.

"That is not how it works," The dread wolf growled. "If the dragon lord is killed then the spark breaks. Since that spark is what sustains the world, reality acts as its elixir."

"Stop talking in riddles!" Lance snapped. "Everyone we knew is dead and all of Thedas has been burnt away. If there's a way to bring it back then spit it out!"

"Dumat's death will cause the spark to force itself backwards in time to the last point where it was completely stable. Which would be before Dumat took it," Fen'harel replied. "Suffice it to say, everything will be restored and the god of silence will be dead."

"And I suppose you have a way to kill the most powerful being in all reality," The All Father said coldly. "We have prolonged the inevitable, nothing more."

"How do you know about the spark turning back time?" The witch said quietly as she looked up. "How do we know we can trust you?"

"Do not question me! We are gods and intrinsically comprehending of the nature of reality," The dread wolf roared. "The spark is imprinted with the essence of the Maker; we feel it and comprehend it. And do you have a choice when it comes to trust?"

"We have no choice but to fight with them," Leliana said flatly. She turned to the dread wolf. "Do you know how to kill him?"

"There is no easy way but there is the illusion of a chance," The dread wolf replied. "However, if your companions cannot pull themselves together then there is no point."

"Is it so hard to understand our grief?" Alisa murmured before taking a deep breath to attempt to calm herself.

"It's my fault," The bard whispered under her breath, tears stinging at her eyes.

"But this isn't the time to grieve," The warden said in a stronger voice, familiar determination sparkling in her eyes. "If there's any chance at all, I'll fight for it."

"You won't do it alone," Lance said with a small smile. Morrigan simply spun her staff in her hands and nodded.

"So, now what?" The witch asked, shooting a concerned glance at Leliana who seemed a little dazed.

"Now, nothing," Mythal said with a smile.

And that was when the first tinge of light broke from the dead stone. It promised the faintest hint of gold and then burst forward like a magnificent ripple. The black vanished as the wave spread, making alive all that was once corrupted. The dead husk of heaven had been raised once more as its shining splendor roared across the Void in which it was now suspended. The dull brown rocks of the Fade turned to diamond constructs as the once bare walls promised impossible beauty and art that sang the heart's desire. The dead and forbidding throne grew resplendent as all that was black turned to gold. The very thing Dumat would have taken great pride in killing was remade. The seed of life sang in celeste tones that reverberated through the souls of the few living creatures that remained. And the appearance of this hopeful beauty found itself reflected upon Alisa, Lance and Morrigan's faces. Hope they never thought they had, confidence they had thought forever lost and energy they had thought expended. And before the Maker's throne, the hilt of a blade poked from the ground. Made of a bright white material and encrusted with translucent gems, Fen'harel knew what he was seeing.

Leliana stared entranced at the blade, reeling under conflicting feelings. Her guilt and despair would rise anew to crash against the lovely call she heard in her heart. Her companions were entranced by the changes around them. The dread wolf's voice called from behind her.

"This is the outcome I had hoped for," He growled. "Every living mortal had made their heart pure and so the seed of paradise remade what was lost. And now stands exposed the one weapon that can change the world forever. It sings to you Leliana, does it not? Strange, I had never thought it would choose a mortal to be its wielder when gods stood around it."

"No!" The bard snapped and turned away, staring at her dull grey armor. "I won't touch it. This all happened because of me anyway, I can't fight him. I won't fight him. Let someone else do it, I've had enough of people dying and suffering because of my mistakes."

The creators stood silent, disdain etched across Elgar'nan's face. Alisa stepped forward but Lance gently placed his hands on her shoulders and shook his head as Morrigan walked up to Leliana. The bard looked up and met her eyes blankly.

"This is not the woman I fell in love with," The witch whispered, placing her hands on the Orlesian's shoulders.

"Morrigan I-"

"No, you can and will do this," Morrigan said firmly. "I know you can set things right, I know you didn't want everything to go this way. I love you, now can we please kill that dragon."

"Thank you Morrigan," The bard murmured as she turned away to the sword.

With a hint of hesitation, she placed her hand on the hilt and slid the sword from its position embedded in the floor. And the infinite blade, forged of liquid light was glad to be free of its prison. Its light flashed for an instant as Leliana's armor turned to bright white and her features calmed. She spun the blade easily in her hands. She turned to the witch and kissed her lightly on the lips.

"I love you too," She said calmly. "And thanks again."

"You may now be our best hope but you are still guilty of your crimes," Elgar'nan's voice echoed through the golden hall. "If this ends favorably, know that you will answer for your mistakes."

"I know far better than you all that I am guilty of," Leliana replied gently. "But you would do well to know that you have not what it takes to enforce any punishment on me."

"Be wary that your power does not turn you into the dragon lord," Andruil said softly.

"You do not know what the infinite blade does to a person nor is it necessary that you should know," The bard said simply before walking towards the gates of the city, pausing as she neared the warden.

"I'm sorry about everything Alisa. We can talk properly after I finish what I must do."

Without waiting for a response or acknowledging the call of her name, Leliana strode out of the gates of heaven and lifted herself gently towards the void, staring into the eyes of the god of silence. The Creators acted as well, some with a little more hesitation than others. They shot their glances around at the other six dragons that looped lazily through nothingness, awaiting the word of Dumat. Alisa, Lance and Morrigan could only stare helplessly from the gates, much to their dismay. And then a voice emerged from everywhere.

"Paradise's champion," The dragon lord declared in mirth. "This has happened before and if I must crush the wielder of the sword once more, then I shall. Why do you even fight? There is no way forward from here, except mine."

The incomprehensible true form of the god began to swirl through nothing, reducing itself slowly into a more human shape. Leliana continued to stare calmly as the weapons of the elven gods were trained upon their enemies.

"There is no way forward, but there is a way back," The bard replied with a smile.

The enormous white eyes disappeared into the twisting shadow as a recognizable form began to emerge. The voice of Dumat echoed once more.

"Then you may shriek in despair for I will not be killed."

With one final spin, Leliana found herself staring at a clone of herself. Except she was staring into eyes that were glowing white, armor that was jet black and a sword that was made of liquid darkness. The dragon lord made a small gesture with his blade as the other gods shot towards the creators ignoring the bard completely. She stared into the dragon lord's eyes and raised her blade, waves of its strength spreading through nothingness. And the null blade was raised as well.

"Again we shall fight and again you shall die," Dumat said with scarcely disguised malice in a voice Leliana knew as her own. "Does your blood not boil in fury at the sight of all I have taken from you, at the knowledge of all I have ruined?"

"I don't hate you."

"_What?"_

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Yes, this is odd for the garden but it's a damn pretty light show isn't it. Oh, I can't help you right now. Ain't seen many things like this in my time here. Who's that woman over there you ask? Oh, she's the caretaker of the garden. People say that she is the garden. I'm not so sure myself and I'd rather think of it later. Right now, there's strange things to look at. You know what's unique about all this? I don't think dear Destiny knows where she wants to go. And that, my friend, is bloody rare.

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_Author's Note: Well, hope you liked it. Do leave your thoughts. Machine gods willing, I shall update soon._

_To my reviewers:_

_Lehni: Thanks! I see exactly what you mean about anticipation and energy. I decided to go with my original plans. The longer route would have taken a path through a world created by the dragon gods. I had thought about it because I thought it might give an interesting perspective but in the end there were a few kinks which led me to scrap that for the moment. Oddly enough, I've never seen the neverending story although it's now on my list of things to watch._

_interesting2125: Thanks! And the only person who's late is me :P. A very big thanks for the advice, though! And yes, I see exactly what you mean about it being less personal and detailed but larger in scale. Yeah, the last few chapter have been somewhat grim. But things may look up now. Possibly. You know me ;)_


	49. The Fruit of Ambition

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the game._

_Author's Note: This is something of a short interlude, I suppose. The last side trip, before we wrap up the story. Hope you like it, do leave your feedback._

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Chapter 49 – The Fruit of Ambition

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_A proud man is always looking down on things and people; and, of course, as long as you're looking down, you can't see something that's above you._

_~ C. S. Lewis_

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The whitewood staff tore through the air to land on the woman's back with a resounding crack. She screamed in pain as she collapsed on the floor, writhing. The look of savage fury on the face of the bearded man changed to a malicious grin as he raised the staff again and brought it down once more. The hall was entirely silent; the other slaves didn't utter a word.

And it was a beautiful hall. A table of delicately carved and polished stone stretched across most of it. At the head of the table stood a wooden chair that was more a throne; it put the rest of the seating to shame. There could be no question; that was where the magister sat. Paintings adorned the walls on either side, with doors leading into the inner chambers. A horde of slaves was busy preparing the table for the magister's guests. Guests of course referring to the people to whom he wished to prove his superiority. He was well known for having a terrible temper.

"Bitch!" The magister roared as he struck one last time. "Drop anything else and you'll wish you were never born."

The woman writhed on the floor, sobbing softly. The other slaves rushed to clean the spreading alcohol that had been dropped. The magister was on the verge of hysterics; it felt wonderful to get rid of all his frustrations like this. He had been searching for a way to let out his brewing rage and now he had found it. The slave was reasonably attractive after all. The smile stretched wider. No one would deny him, the world was his.

The woman yelped as he tugged her to her feet.

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A sylvanwood staff lay propped against the wall as a Tevinter magister heartily slurped from his glass and stuffed meat down his throat. The man was enormous, even by the standards of the most decadent of the Tevinter elite. But could he help it if he had a true appreciation for food?

His private chamber consisted of a large bed and an even larger table where he had his meals. Meals that lasted a significant period of time, as it so happened. The plates were of the finest gold of course, even the glasses were gold. He signaled to the elf servant in the room. The slave rushed to the magister's side as quickly as he could.

"More drink," The mage snapped offhandedly.

"Sire, we have no more at the moment," The elf said hesitantly. "I will make arrangements immediately."

The magister's look caused the slave to shrink in fear.

"Do so," He ordered coldly. "And bring me more meat."

"I… we have no more meat either Sire," The servant said in a somewhat high pitched voice.

The mage roared in anger and grasped his staff. He would not be denied, the world was his.

"I wonder how elf flesh tastes," The magister said in a guttural shout. His eyes gleamed with only excitement.

The slave screamed as the staff was raised.

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The red steel staff was lying alongside the carefree mage. The magister lay with his eyes closed in his palanquin, waiting only for his slaves to carry him to the gardens. The walk would have taken a matter of seconds, perhaps a minute. But what was the point of slaves if you had to work yourself.

The palanquin was designed beautifully, gilded in gold with velvet curtains to hide the mage's pale face from the heat of the sun. He had earned his unbelievably easy life after all. Four men walked up and grasped the poles and began to ferry him out. The palanquin was unreasonably heavy, to begin with. And there was a hole where the palace opened out into the garden.

And so, one of the slaves tripped, bringing the palanquin crashing upon the ground. The magister sighed as soon as he had gathered his wits. He pushed open the velvet curtains slowly and looked at the guilty slave who was bowing deeply. Well, he would have some manner of payback. No one would deny him, the world was his.

"You, are you married?" He asked lazily.

"Y-yes Sire," The man stuttered. The mage knew it had been a good decision to hire families.

"Bring me your wife," He commanded with a smirk as a look of horror flashed across the man's face.

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The silverite staff clattered on the floor, forgotten. The magister slammed the voluptuous red haired woman against the wall and kissed her brutally and greedily. He sighed in pleasure as the other women stroked and massaged his body, slowly undressing him. There were few things that pleased him more than the hours and hours he spent in his harem.

Of course, he had forcibly enslaved any woman in the city who had taken his fancy. They had all been willing enough once he had turned the rebellious ones to ash. That was when the door creaked open and one of his guards tossed in a panicked woman with disheveled black hair. Her eyes betrayed panic and worry. The mage gently pushed aside his admiring throng.

He recognized the woman soon enough, it was his latest acquisition. And she had been engaged to some poor man the city, not that he cared anymore.

"Come, pleasure me," The magister purred.

"N-no, please no," The woman begged, turning her head aside.

The mage's face contorted in anger. He would not be denied, the world was his.

He grabbed her hair and pulled her up. He would have his pleasure one way or another.

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A dragonbone staff was laid across the lap of the clean shaven, thin man. He leaned back in his golden throne with a soft smile on his face. He wore jet black robes and of course was feared by many. He was the greatest mage in the world. He had accomplished impossible goals effortlessly. His throne room was nothing more than a vast, empty chamber forged of gold. Beneath his right foot was sprawled an old man with white hair. And beneath his left foot was a small black dragon, squawking in pain.

The magister grinned contentedly and ground both his feet down. Shouts of pain from the man and roars of agony from the dragon were his music. After all, he was everything now. No one could deny him, the world was his.

He had done it all and he had finally received his reward. To lord over everyone, as was his right.

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The whitewood staff flew from his hand as the bearded magister's eyes widened in fury. The slave bitch had actually raised a hand against him. But then fear enveloped him.

The woman's presence had grown to oppressive levels and his head was pounding.

"So angry, so much rage," The slave said softly as she laid a hand on his head.

He shrieked as his skin began to blister and rot, his throat going dry. He shrieked like a beast as he stumbled around the room. His beautiful hall began to fall apart. Paintings tore of their own accord and a piece of the ceiling crushed his precious throne. For a single moment he saw bright gold.

_And so is the golden city blackened._

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The slyvanwood staff slipped from the magister's hand as he vomited noisily. The elf's hand had grasped his head firmly. The mage's skin wrinkled even as he shrieked, eyes beginning to become blank. He could not make words anymore, only scream gutturally.

"So much hunger," The elf murmured.

The slave was bursting with a bright, white aura that hurt his eyes. Around the magister, his precious food went stale and began to crawl with insects and maggots. For a single moment he saw bright gold.

_With each step you take in my hall._

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The red steel staff snapped like a twig as the palanquin collapsed upon the magister. The slave, who was echoing with unnatural power, was holding the mage's head firmly. His scalp boiled as his hair was singed off. He could only scream in a beastly voice, emerging from a dead throat.

"So lazy, so much sloth," The palanquin bearer said coldly.

His gardens burnt around him and his palace collapsed. For a single moment he saw bright gold.

_Marvel at perfection._

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The forgotten silverite staff was kicked aside by the black haired woman. She was scowling in anger, nails clawing into the magister's scalp as she radiated unusual power. The mage roared in agony that was amplified when he looked over his once lovely body. The wretched, wrinkled, dead skin covered everything. He could make no noise and his mind was slowly dying.

"So lustful, so much desire," The woman hissed viciously.

His harem exploded around him as the rubble began to bury his now terrifying form. For a single moment he saw bright gold.

_For it is fleeting._

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The dragonbone staff was still upon the golden throne that was rapidly corroding. The magister's rotting body was flung across the chamber repeatedly. There was a single presence within the collapsing chamber, something the mage could not bring himself to see. He was reminded, though, of how his father beat him when he was a child. It was the only other time he had felt such fear. His shout was like the cry of a monster as he slammed into the floor. A great force struck his back as though he was being stepped on.

"Such pride and hubris," A voice bellowed. It still reminded him of his father.

He saw a flash of gold. A great city of gold that turned black. And then he remembered. He attempted an indignant shriek but his dead throat allowed for only animalistic roars. This was not how it was supposed to end. Heaven was rightfully his for the taking. He thought he heard a voice murmur about ungrateful playthings and children before the floor gave way beneath him.

_You have brought sin to heaven and doom upon all the world._

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He was conscious of falling and then he was conscious of being surrounded by dirt. In the darkness he could still feel his corrupted, dead body. The voice of his beloved god burst through his mind, causing his head to throb painfully.

"I will not bear this indignity! I will NOT suffer this curse-"

And then the voice was gone as were his intelligent thoughts. There was only a beautiful song that played through his mind. And he had to kill, and make more. But the music was more important; he had to find the source of the tune. Never had he felt such longing.

The beast began to claw through the dirt.

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_Author's Note: Hope you liked it. Do leave your thoughts. Next update shall continue with the main storyline._

_To my reviewers:_

_interesting2125: Thanks! Yeah, I think Morri's had a slight change in her world view eventually. The gardener could be taken as the voice but... actually, more on that later (sort of). Hope the final fight doesn't dissapoint._

_Lehni: hanks! Yes, it's essentially a metaphor (which sort of goes both ways). Just a short way of putting up the role of 'fate'. Anyway, more on that a bit later. Glad you liked the Leli/Morri fluff._

_Nightwish11606: Thanks! And great to hear from you! Glad you liked the fluff, I did think the story could use a little after what it went through. Hope you like the final showdown!_


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